


Gas Gauge

by mizdiz



Series: Scrap Metal [6]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Animal Death, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Series, Texting, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2020-12-14 07:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 142,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: First comes love, then comes accidental pregnancy, then comes marriage, then comes zombie apocalypse. C'est la vie!





	1. The Way of the Dinosaurs

**Author's Note:**

> general cw for the story as a whole: 
> 
> there will be violence, angst, and there will be death. i will say now that i promise carol and daryl will make it to the end alive, but that's all you get. i hate spoiling surprises. that being said, there will still be comedy, dumbassery, and even texting (yes, there's still texting in this fic). if this ain't your cup of tea i feel you, but if you're willing to give it a try, i appreciate it, and i hope the journey is a good one! i'll shut up and let you read now. thanks to everyone that's made this the best project to work on ever. 
> 
> deuces,
> 
> -diz

The lights flicker back on, the TV rebooting, the same warning message plastered on the screen. Daryl’s phone buzzes several times in quick succession in his hand, and he checks the incoming messages.

(9:09p) ^signal is spotty i dont think a call will go thru but listen yall need 2 leave asap.^

(9:09p) ^u seen the warning? atlanta aint safe no more u gotta leave come home 2 my place n we’ll figure out a plan from there.^

(:09p) ^take supplies but only wut u need idk when ull get 2 go back home shits crazy plz b safe^

“Is that Merle again?” Carol asks, sliding onto the floor and scooting over beside him. Daryl holds the phone out and lets her read it. Her eyes scan the screen before she pulls back, shaking her head. “I don’t understand,” she says.

“Me neither,” Daryl says. To the rest of them he explains, “Mere’s sayin’ that whatever that shit they got blaring on every channel is legit, and that Atlanta ain’t safe.”

“Safe from  _ what _ ?” Michonne asks.

“The message warns us not to go outside,” Maggie points out. Daryl can offer nothing, as he’s just as lost.

(9:12p) -msg says it aint safe 2 leave the house-

It takes more than twenty seconds for the message to decide to send, but Merle’s fast reply makes up for the lag.

(9:1p) ^dont listen 2 them listen 2 me u need 2 get out now get those babies safe n DONT GET BIT!^

At the mention of his kids Daryl feels fear seep through his confusion for the first time. If Merle is to be believed, does that mean his children are in danger?

“Why don’t they give any details?” Glenn asks, nodding at the TV. “They say we’re supposed to avoid people who are infected, but how are we supposed to know who is and who isn’t if we don’t even know what they’re infected with?”

“I’m gonna see what I can find online,” Carol says, whipping her own phone out. While she does that, Daryl turns to Rick.

“What do you think?” he asks him. Rick pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb, thinking hard. The fact that he’s uncertain is enough to worry Daryl. A man of the law, Daryl would assume it would be Rick’s immediate instinct to go with what the government orders are over hearsay. 

“Oh my God,” Carol says then. They all find her staring unblinkingly at her phone, eyes wide, mouth partially agape.

“What is it?” Daryl asks. In response, Carol situates herself so that everyone can see over her shoulders. She restarts a short fourteen second video.

It takes a moment for it to play, the internet connection spotty, but when it does Daryl instantly understands Carol’s alarm.

It’s a shaky video, filmed on a phone camera. There is a man yelling something, gesturing frantically for people to flee. All around him are people running and yelling and then, out of nowhere, a person collides with him, and with no preamble, takes a bite out of his neck, just like that. The video cuts off right as the blood begins to spout.

“Where’d you find that?” Daryl asks quietly. None of them seem capable of moving.   
  


“It was in the comments of a news article,” Carol says, voice flat and distant. They all startle at the rattling vibration that suddenly fills the room.

“That’s you, Glenn,” Maggie says, grabbing Glenn’s lit-up phone off the coffee table and handing it to him.

“It’s my sister,” he says, checking the caller ID. He swipes up to answer and puts the phone to his ear. “Grace…?” He frowns, shaking his head, confused. “Grace, slow down, I can’t understand... _ What? _ No that’s not...Grace…? Gracie, you’re breaking up. Grace? Gracie, hello?” 

Glenn tries to get her back on the line with a few more hellos and desperate attempts at saying her name, before conceding defeat and letting the call drop. He lowers his arm down to his lap and looks at the others with a carefully neutral expression.

“What was that about?” Rick asks. Glenn takes a steadying breath.

“That was my sister,” he says slowly. “She just said that my brother-in-law is dead.”

There’s a ringing silence.

“Are you sure, babe?” Maggie asks quietly. Glenn shrugs, face vacant.

“That’s what she said.”

“How?” Carol asks, trying to sound gentle while still probing for more information. 

“I’m not sure,” Glenn says, cringing as he’s forced to recall the conversation. “She was hysterical, I could barely understand her, and the connection was bad. All I could really make out was her saying, ‘Dan is dead,’ and then repeating ‘he was bit, he was bit, he was bit.’” 

Bit. Like the TV warning said. Like Merle’s instructions said. Like the man in the video was.

“Briar?” Daryl asks of Glenn’s nephew. Glenn gives him a helpless shake of the head.

“I don’t know.”

“Your sister doesn’t even live in Georgia, she lives in Birmingham,” Rick says, a crease in his brow.

“Do you think this is a national thing?” asks Michonne.

“If Alabama is affected then we at least know it’s not confined to here,” Carol says. She’s looking at Daryl, speaking silently to him. He nods in understanding.

“We gotta make sure our kids are safe,” he says to the others, voicing their quick, nonverbal conversation aloud. 

“But what does that even mean?” Glenn asks. He’s pale, shock overtaking him. “Do we listen to the CDC message and stay, or do we listen to your brother and go?”

Daryl swallows, turing to Rick again.

“I’m up for suggestions,” Rick says. Daryl chews on a cuticle, mind racing through all the options and trying to pick the best one.

“My brother ain’t the most educated man, but he knows survival,” he says slowly. “If he says it ain’t safe then he means it. And look at it this way—if this really is some disease that’s passin’ person-to-person, don’t it make sense to go to where the people  _ ain’t _ ?”

“Everybody within driving distance is going to be trying to get to Atlanta,” Carol adds. “People are gonna think the big city must be a refuge and will flock to it in a mad rush. Daryl’s right—if whatever this is is contagious then the last place we wanna be is stuck in a crowd.”

Rick clicks his tongue, considering the argument.

“But if you’re wrong then we’ll be miles away from where the resources are,” he says.

“But we’ll have Merle, and between him and me we got enough survival trainin’ to find the resources if we gotta,” Daryl says.

“And worst comes to worst, we turn around and come back,” says Carol.

The group exchange unsettled, uncertain looks. 

“We go?” Rick asks finally. The question, though said to the room at large, is directed at Daryl.

“Yeah,” Daryl says with more confidence than he feels. “We go.”

*

Daryl and Carol go into the kids’ room, the flower shaped nightlight in the corner giving everything a dim, golden hue. Daryl goes to Jesse’s bed and scoops him up into his arms, trying not to wake him, but he fails when the little boy blinks his bleary eyes open and squints at Daryl.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. He glances at the window where outside it’s dark. “It’s not morning yet.”

“No it’s not,” Daryl says softly, rubbing his son’s back. “But we gotta go for a ride.”

“Why?” comes and equally sleepy voice, and Daryl looks over to where Carol has Josie held close in her own arms. Josie’s long hair is tangled and she rubs her tired eyes with her fists. 

“Something’s going on so we need to go to your Uncle Merle’s house for a little while,” Carol whispers to Josie, who frowns.

“What something?” she asks, never one to miss a trick. 

“Nothin’ y’all gotta worry ‘bout right now,” says Daryl, adjusting Jesse on his hip. “Everything’s okay, but we gotta get goin’ here right quick, alright?”

“I’m sure your Uncle Merle will be glad to see you. He’ll be able to give you late birthday hugs,” Carol adds.

“Will Auntie Barb be there too?” asks Jesse, resting his head on Daryl’s shoulder.

“We’ll go see her,” Carol says.

“Is Henry coming with?” Josie asks.

“Yep, and he can sit in the backseat with you, how’s that sound?”

Jesse, taking his parents at their word, yawns and snuggles in closer to Daryl, hardly even awake. Josie, on the other hand, while just as sleepy, isn’t so easily convinced.

“You said Uncle Merle couldn’t come visit for our birthday ‘cause he’s got lots of work,” she says, pushing messy strands of hair out of her face. “Won’t he be too busy for us to go to his house?”   
  


“He doesn’t work at nighttime,” Jesse reminds his sister, his eyes closed. The crease in Josie’s brow deepens. She asks,

“But won’t he be sleeping if it’s nighttime?” 

“Baby,” Carol says gently to Josie. “I know you have a lot of questions, and we’ll answer them, but first you just gotta trust momma and daddy, okay?” 

Josie twists her mouth and looks at Daryl.

“Daddy?” she asks. Daryl merely nods and that’s good enough for her. “Okay then,” she says, granting them permission. “I want teddy, though.”

“Mm, me too,” Jesse mumbles against Daryl. In response, Daryl reaches down to Jesse’s bed to snatch his ratty teddy bear with a big number two plastered on its belly. Carol does the same with Josie’s number one teddy, and both kids cling to their stuffed animals like safety blankets, placated for now. 

Outside seems like any other night—nothing seems amiss from the few hours ago when they were celebrating birthdays and shooting the shit—but there’s now an uneasiness among the group of friends as they loiter by their respective vehicles.   
  


“Maybe I should go to the station,” Rick says, fiddling with his keys. “Make sure they don’t need my help. Michonne could ride with one of you guys, and I could catch up with you later.”

Daryl would never be able to explain where the following feeling came from, but like a punch to the gut he gets the most intense intuitive sense he’s ever had, and is instantly convinced that if Rick leaves them now they will never see him again.

“No,” he says, sharply enough to startle the drowsy kiddo in his arms. Daryl presses a reassuring hand on the small of Jesse’s back before saying, calmer, “You gotta come with us. We all go or none of us do.” 

For a moment there’s nothing but the jingling of Rick’s keys and the rhythmic cadence of the last of the season’s cicadas in the trees. Rick then gives a solid nod and the knot in Daryl’s chest loosens by a degree.

“Do you have…” Daryl starts and then pauses, frowning down at Jesse, not wanting to raise any alarms. “Are you packing?” he amends, hoping it’s cryptic enough.

“Does he need to be?” Glenn asks with his eyebrows raised. Daryl shakes his head.

“I dunno, but I’d rather not find out in a situation where we really wish he was.”

“I am,” Rick confirms, gesturing at his car with his head. “And maybe...maybe you should be, too.”

Daryl chews on his lower lip. He exchanges a glance with Carol, who’s stroking Josie’s hair. She gives a miniscule nod.

“Let me get the kids situated,” Daryl says. “Then you and Glenn can come give me a hand out back.”

“Don’t forget Henry,” Josie reminds her parents as they buckle them into the van.

“Oh!” Jesse says then, suddenly alert. He puts a hand on Daryl’s forearm. “I forgot Stew.”

Daryl huffs a small laugh as he adjusts Jesse’s seatbelt. He gives his son a kiss on the forehead and promises, “No pets are gettin’ left behind, alright?”

“Okay,” Jesse says, relieved. He rests back and holds his teddy bear close to his chest. Daryl gestures for Carol to follow him.

“We’re right over here,” she tells the kids. “We just need to make sure we have everything before we go.” She pats the roof of the van and, leaving the door open to give the twins some air, walks out of earshot of them with Daryl.

“You okay?” Daryl asks her before anything else, running a thumb down her cheek.

“I’d be better if I had some answers,” she says. Daryl hums in agreement. “I tried messaging Auntie, but she hasn’t responded.”

“Try not to worry yourself over it; could be for a whole lotta reasons. Maybe her reception is fucked, too. Or hell, maybe she’s already in bed. We’ll check on her once we talk to Merle and figure out what the fuck is going on.”

“Mm,” Carol says. She glances over to where Glenn and Rick are talking and says in an undertone, “Do you really think Glenn’s brother-in-law is dead?”

“I dunno why Grace would say sometin’ like that if it ain’t true,” Daryl says with a grimace.

“ _ Dead _ , though?” Carol asks, hugging herself, shoulders tense. 

“C’mere,” Daryl whispers. He tugs her to him, tight as the kids’ grip on their teddy bears, and rubs her back for several seconds. “Whatever’s goin’ on we’ll figure it out. ‘Sides, it might end up bein’ nothin’, who knows?”

“I dunno, Daryl,” she mutters against him, and he can feel her shiver and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the autumn chill. “I got a feeling in my gut that it isn’t nothing. I’m afraid that it might actually be a really big something.” 

Daryl doesn’t say anything, because he isn’t one to lie, and he doesn’t think it’ll help anything to tell her he’s feeling the same way.

*

“Dear lord, it’s a good thing you aren’t a homicidal maniac,” Glenn says when Daryl unlocks his shed and opens it to reveal his several rifles, knives, and crossbow. He snorts.

“I hunt, remember?” he says, pocketing his keys and doing a mental debate on what all he should take.

“Would it be overkill to suggest you take all of it?” Rick asks, clearly on the same wavelength.

“What exactly do you expect us to encounter that would require us to be armed?” Glenn asks, eyeing the weapons warily, as though they may attack him on their own accord.

“Hopefully nothing,” Rick says.

“But if there’s really people out there takin’ chunks out of other people’s necks…” Daryl trails off. Glenn grimaces.

“We’re taking these so we can shoot  _ people _ ?” he asks quietly. A heavy beat passes between the three of them.

“Now without warrant. Obviously I’m not suggesting anything illegal, but it’s perfectly within our rights to defend ourselves if it becomes necessary.” Rick says this like it’s meant to sound reassuring, but if anything Glenn appears even more doubtful.

“I gotta keep my kids safe, man,” Daryl says to Glenn. They exchange a significant look, and Glenn finally relents with a sigh. 

“Okay,” he says, defeated. “Load up, I guess.”

“You should take some for your truck,” Daryl says to Glenn. “In case we get separated and...I don’t even know. That’s why you should—’cause we don’t know.”

“I don’t have a concealed carry permit,” he says.

“Maggie does,” Rick says. “I signed it myself.”

Glenn twists his mouth, wringing his hands. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbles.

“You ever shoot a gun before?” Daryl asks, lifting out one of his rifles and handing it to Rick.

“Guess,” Glenn says flatly.

“Well hopefully you won’t have to,” says Rick. “You take a rifle, let Maggie be in charge of it, and we’ll give you a couple knives. That good?”

“Not a damn thing about this is good,” Glenn says, sobering Rick’s optimistic tone in an instant.

“We don’t know any details about this, and your conversation with your sister got cut short. Maybe there was more to the story than what she said. Nothing is confirmed,” Rick says. Glenn sets his jaw, kicking dirt with the toe of his tennis shoe.

“You didn’t hear her voice,” Glenn says. “You didn’t hear what she sounded like.”

“What’d she sound like?” Daryl asks, running a hand along the handle of one of his knives absently. Glenn keeps his head down for a long moment before forcing himself to meet their eyes. He says,

“Terrified.”

*

Daryl skims every room in his house, trying to figure out what should be considered “essential.” Some water, juice, and snacks from the kitchen for the kids; Henry’s kibble and leash and his favorite ball, of course; he snatches a few changes of clothes out of the laundry room in case they don’t get home right away. In the kids’ room he stuffs a few books and toys in a bag, along with some crayons and paper for Jesse, and Josie’s binoculars she uses to look at the stars. A pang goes through Daryl’s chest, knowing his kids haven’t had a chance to fully enjoy their new birthday gifts, but this will have to do for now. They’ll get the time, he tells himself, they won’t be gone forever.

(It’s a reasonable enough thought, so why does it feel like a lie?)

Daryl is about to step out of the room when he notices the small, red carrying case sat on Jesse’s bedside table. 

“C’mon, Cap’n BS,” Daryl mutters to the tiny salamander as he picks up the cage in one hand. “I got a lil’ boy whose heart would break into a thousand pieces if you got left behind.”

Daryl’s last stop is his and Carol’s bedroom. It’s much bigger than the one they used to have before they moved to Atlanta; much nicer and well-decorated, with Carol’s good eye for design evident between the walls. There is a creeping feeling of homesickness welling up in Daryl’s belly that he can’t seem to justify. They’re just going to his brother’s house until whatever this is blows over, and then they will come back to Atlanta, and he and Carol will curl up together in bed—maybe will even let the twins and the dog and maybe even the damn salamander up on it, too—and then they’ll go on with their lives. This is their  _ home _ , and it’s going to remain that way.

Even as he forces himself to think this, Daryl runs a hand over the rumpled comforter neither he nor Carol bothered to make that morning. He ponders over the family photo in the frame sitting on the dresser, remembering how he never used to understand families that had group photos, and wondering if it’s considered essential enough to take with them.

No, he tells himself, if he gets hung up on every little sentimental thing his damn bleeding heart will have him packing everything they own. Still, he can’t leave  _ all  _ of it behind.

He goes to the closet. On the top shelf, shoved in the very back, behind mismatched winter gloves, a few rogue hangers, and a random empty shoebox, is his locked safe. He pulls it down and sits it on the bed, entering the combination and popping it open with a click.

There used to only be one thing inside it, and that was his singular picture of his mother. Over time, however, other items have joined it. There is an ultrasound picture of the twins, a marble the color of fire, a letter Carol wrote him one Valentine’s Day, a small, leather bound notebook full of letters he’s written to his kids, and three coins. 

Daryl pushes around the other items and plucks up the coins into his hand. He examines each one. He hasn’t given a thought to them, maybe for years.

The first one is an ancient Greek coin with the face of the goddess Athena carved into it. It belongs to his headstrong, intelligent daughter.

The second ancient coin originates from Crete, and has a pattern engraved in it, making a labyrinth. It belongs to his creative, distinctive son. 

The third coin isn’t actually a coin at all, but a pendant—one that he had found on a dusty shop floor by chance. The face on it is ugly, with bulging eyes and a wide mouth, its hair wild and angry. The Gorgon. When Daryl picked up the pendant in Santorini and the shopkeeper told him it was to ward away evil he had laughed about it over dinner with his wife. But now? Now, after threading it between his fingers thoughtfully, he sticks the pendant into his pocket. He doesn’t believe in it—of course he doesn’t—but, well...what could it hurt? 

Daryl puts the other two coins back in the safe and shuts the box, screwing up the numbers to lock it again. He grabs it by the handle and carries it with him to the door, where he casts a final glance at his bedroom, his stomach still doing flip flops, and heads out to meet the others.

Outside, his friends are finishing dividing up what goes in whose car. Daryl walks in on a debate about whether or not they should make pit stops at the other two pairs’ houses. 

“We aren’t going to your place, you live in Atlanta proper, it’d defeat the whole purpose of avoiding the city,” Carol is telling Michonne. Michonne crosses her arms and sets her jaw, but concedes the point reluctantly. Daryl is sympathetic—if she’s feeling at all like he is, he understands why she’d want to go sort through her and Rick’s things—but Carol is right. They have very little information, but the one concrete thing they do have is the agreement to get the fuck away from Atlanta.

“What about a quick stop at our place?” Maggie asks. She must see Carol open her mouth to protest, because she quickly adds, “We’re only a few miles out of the way, and we’re further from the city than you are. We’ve got things there that may be useful. A few containers of gas, clothes that could fit Rick and Michonne since we can’t go to their apartment...more weapons.”

Daryl glances at the open door of his van and sees Jesse fast asleep with Captain Beef Stew’s cage sitting on his lap, and Josie nearly there, her fingers threaded through Henry’s short fur while the dog rests his chin on her knees.

“Why is everybody acting like we’re walking into a war zone?” Glenn asks, rubbing his face. Daryl—wired toward survival instincts at a young age—knows that her personally feels better with the weapons, and Rick, being a cop, obviously sees the merit. Maggie’s rural upbringing most likely parallels Daryl’s in that she’d rather be safe than sorry if they’re pulling away from the more populated areas. It doesn’t matter that they don’t know what the threat is—what matters is that there is a threat at all, and it seems to be a big deal, and while Glenn’s discomfort is understandable, Daryl isn’t willing to take the risk.

“No one’s shootin’ anything if we don’t gotta,” he tells his friend.

“But you want to be prepared in case we do,” Glenn finishes for him, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

“We’ll stop at Maggie and Glenn’s,” Carol says authoritatively, cutting off any further discussion about whether or not they should be lugging around a goddamn arsenal. “Then we get on the road towards home.”

Again, Daryl searches out Rick, who’s already looking his way. Daryl nods in agreement with his wife, and Rick nods in acceptance of Daryl’s decision.

“Let’s go,” Rick says to the group at large. “And don’t lose each other, especially with reception being spotty. Whatever’s going on, I have a feeling we’re gonna want to face it together.” 

*

_ (10:29p) -so gd tired omg- _

_ (10:29p) -kids r finally in bed i thot they was nvr gna go 2 slp- _

_ (10:29p) -thnx again 4 all ur help 2day- _

_ (10:31p) >Not a problem, brother.< _

_ (10:31p) ~it was our pleomorphism.~ _

_ (10:32p) -uhhh wut?- _

_ (10:33p) ~er... pleasure. sorry, that one was especially weird.~ _

_ (10:34p) -rite- _

_ (10:34p) -anyway- _

_ (10:34p) -ig i live in atlanta now?- _

_ (10:35p) >Yeah you do! Finally Team Groupchat is all in one place!< _

_ (10:36p) ~it's been literal years since we've all lived in the same town. it's surreal that we can just like...see each other whenever we want.~ _

_ (10:37p) >Definitely. Of course you two had to go live out in the boonies so it's still a twenty minute drive to get to your place.< _

_ (10:38p) -beats an hr n a half- _

_ (10:39p) ~tru dat. how are you and the fam settling in, daryl?~ _

_ (10:40p) -lol carol passed out like the sec she hit the bed- _

_ (10:40p) -after yall left we looked @ all the boxes n then said fuk it n ordered pizza n havent touched shit xcept essentials- _

_ (10:41p) >You'll get there.< _

_ (10:42p) ~the kids doing any better?~ _

_ (10:44p) -kinda? jojo said "mb we shud go back home bc auntie barb n uncle merle prolly miss us" n jj told her "we have 2 live here now bc momma n daddy brought all our underwear 2 this house"- _

_ (10:45p) ~sound logic as always.~ _

_ (10:45p) >Rofl, the kid is wise.< _

_ (10:45p) >I'm sure they'll get used to it. Kids are adaptable, right? That's a thing?< _

_ (10:46p) ~depends. briar was totes fine when my sister and brother-in-law moved to alabama, but he once threw a two hour long tantrum because i gave him a blue cup instead of his usual red cup, so like…?~ _

_ (10:47p) -been there- _

_ (10:47p) -but yeah idk i hope they r ok w/ it soon bc i feel bad 4 uprooting them- _

_ (10:48p) ~it's part of life. you're both still great parents, so it's not like this is gonna scar them forever.~ _

_ (10:49p) >How are /you/ feeling about it?< _

_ (10:50p) -honestly? p gud- _

_ (10:51p) ~yeah?~ _

_ (10:52p) -yeah better than i thot i wud feel. i miss our old place obvi but this feels more like a home u kno?- _

_ (10:52p) -like a place the kids can grow up n carol n i can call ours 4 a long time- _

_ (10:52p) -idk i like it i like the feeling- _

_ (10:53p) >So you aren't regretting the move yet?< _

_ (10:54p) -nah im thinking it was a gud idea- _

_ (10:55p) ~that's good, because i'd be annoyed if i helped you move and you ended up turning right back around.~ _

_ (10:56p) >You carried like, pillows and all the light boxes.< _

_ (10:57p) ~i have a supple, delicate frame.~ _

_ (10:58p) >Just say you're weak, Glenn, it's okay.< _

_ (10:59p) -lmfao- _

_ (10:59p) -on tht note im goin 2 bed cuz i actually did carry heavy shit n im tired af- _

_ (11:00p) ~fair enough. goodnight, friend.~ _

_ (11:00p) >Night, brother.< _

_ (11:01p) -gnite- _

_ (11:02p) ~welcome home.~ _

*

They hit I-75 shortly after stocking up at the Greene-Rhee household, and it quickly becomes evident that their earlier assumptions had been correct. On their side of the interstate, as they drive in a caravan with Rick and Michonne in the lead, the stretch ahead and behind them is vacant. Across the median, however, there’s a traffic jam that belongs on the I-405 in Los Angeles at rush hour. The problem is that it’s eleven PM in Georgia. Cars are bumper-to-bumper, and horns are blaring to no avail, all of them stuck, moving by the inch.

“Jesus,” Carol breathes, careful not to wake the sleeping twins (and dog) in the backseat. “What the hell is happening, Daryl?”

Daryl’s hands clench around the steering wheel on their own accord, his knuckles white. The alarm bells in his head that started ringing ages ago are only getting louder with each passing second. Instead of answering, he says,

“Mess around with the radio, will you? See if anybody’s sayin’ somethin’ worth a damn.”

Wordlessly, Carol fiddles with the knob in front of her, turning the volume on low. The first few channels are only static. She then lands on a station with a voice that’s cutting in and out.

“Continuing to give live updates...we haven’t...more information...blanket statements from the CDC...more reports are...of bizarre attacks...body count is up to the...looking like we may...the worst epidemic...go the way of the dinosaurs...only advice...don’t...bit, and make sure...go for the head.”

Carol clicks the radio off abruptly.

“Might be better to leave it on,” Daryl says, casting a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Carol drops her head in her hands.

“Not with them in the back,” she says, voice muffled. “It’s too much hearing that with my babies right here, totally oblivious.” She peeks up between her fingers. “What if this is serious, Daryl? What if we can’t protect them?”

Daryl reaches over and rests a hand on her knee.

“We’ll protect ‘em, sweetheart,” Daryl whispers. “‘Tween you and me it’d take a goddamn meteor crashing on top of us to keep us from making they’re safe.”

“You mean if we were to go the way of the dinosaurs?” Carol asks ominously. Daryl fixes his gaze on the white lines in the middle of the road flying past.

“Ain’t nothin’ happenin’ to you, me, or those babies in the backseat,” he says, squeezing her leg. “Swear on my life that’s the only thing that matters, and I’m promising you now, Imma keep you safe.” 

In his periphery Carol gazes out the window.

“Don’t make promises until you know what we’re fighting against,” she says. “Loving fiercely might make us strong, but there’s not a damn thing in this world that’ll make us immortal.”

“Don’t need immortality to keep my family safe.”

From the backseat Jesse mumbles in his sleep, and Josie shifts around to find a more comfortable way to rest her head.

“They’re so small, Daryl,” Carol whispers, watching the twins in the rearview mirror. “How can we protect something so small from something so big?”

Daryl remembers the day they brought the kids home from the hospital; how terrifying it felt to take his tiny children out into the big kid world. He bounces his left leg up and down, a twinge in the bone flaring up like it does now and then, especially when he’s stressed.

“It’s our job, darlin’,” he tells her quietly. “So we do it. We just do.” 

*

About forty five minutes into the drive they all take the off-ramp from the interstate and make a few twists and turns in a random small town until they reach a deserted one-lane highway. It’s a shortcut home they’ve all used at one time or another during a commute to or from Atlanta, and Daryl thinks he’s only ever seen a dozen or two other cars drive down this road in all these years. 

Their main light source are the headlights on their vehicles, and the abundance of stars they can never see in the city. They pass by a big, meaty chunk of roadkill. They go by quickly, but Daryl still gets a good look at it, but can’t immediately identify it like he usually can. It wasn’t a possum or raccoon or cat or anything that usually gets plastered to the asphalt. 

He thinks of the teeth sinking into that man’s neck and forces the image of the roadkill from his mind.

There is a single gas station on this stretch of highway; the only one for miles. When they happen upon it, Rick slows down and turns his blinker on with plenty of time for Daryl to get the message. He flips his own turn signal on for Glenn and Maggie, and, one-by-one, they pull into the parking lot, where the only two gas pumps smack dab in the middle have a single, empty car sitting next to it, the keys still in the ignition. The open sign on the window is flashing, fluorescent lights inside are shining, and a piece of paper on the door with a message written in Sharpie is advertising 24/7 service, but there is no one else around. 

Rick pulls up to the open gas pump. There aren’t designated parking lines, so Daryl and Glenn stop just ahead of Rick and turn off their cars. Daryl sees Rick get out of his car and head over to his and Carol’s van. 

“You good in here for a sec? Want anything?” Daryl asks Carol.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she says, giving his hand a little squeeze. Daryl squeezes back and hops out of the van, closing the door behind him gently. It’s chilly out here, and he hugs himself, rubbing his arms that aren’t protected under his thin flannel. 

“Wsup?” he asks Rick. Glenn joins them a moment later.

“We’re a little low on gas—could probably make it the rest of the way, but I figured we could make a quick stop. I tried calling you guys, but my calls weren’t going through,” Rick says. “I wasn’t sure how everyone was doing, or if the kids needed a potty break, or anything like that.” 

“Kids are still asleep, but I could take a piss,” Daryl says. Rick and Glenn snort.

“Are you and Maggie alright?” Rick asks Glenn.

“I’m assuming you mean in terms of our situation and not like, in general, right? ‘Cause in general I’m still shitting myself.”

“Shoulda said somethin’; coulda took a potty break earlier,” Daryl says, laughing when Glenn smacks his arm. “Whatever, I’m gonna go inside. Use the pot and maybe grab a soda or somethin’.” 

“I’ll go with, the pump’s on prepay only,” Rick says. They look at Glenn who shrugs.

“Sure,” he says, and the three of them walk the short distance across the parking lot, and Daryl holds the door open for the other two. 

The first thing Daryl notices once inside is that aside from them the place is totally empty, despite the other car at the pump. There isn't even a cashier. There are rows of sweet and salty snacks, a wall in the back full of cold sodas and juices and even some trash beer, and up front by the door there’s a small shelf with travel packs of pain meds, caffeine pills, and Five Hour Energy shots. One of the light panels is flickering, and there’s a staticy hum coming from the bulbs. 

“Do you hear that?” Rick asks then, and it takes Daryl a second to realize he’s not talking about the random white noise of the empty shop. After he strains his ears, Daryl hears a wet, sloshy sound that’s like an exaggerated version of the way Carol’s aunt smacks her gum between her teeth. 

“What the hell is that?” Daryl asks, knitting his brows together.

“Uh, guys,” Glenn says, taking a few steps forward and then stopping in his tracks. 

“What?” asks Rick. In lieu of a response, Glenn raises a hand with a slight tremble and points at a spot on the floor.

“Fuck me,” Daryl breathes. Up ahead of them, trailing in a smeared track around and behind an aisle is what surely can’t be…

“Is that blood?” Glenn asks, his voice cracking. Both he and Daryl look to Rick, who grimaces in confirmation. “What do we do?”

In response, Rick starts tentatively towards the line of blood. Daryl falls in step behind him, and he hears Glenn huff before following as well.

As they get closer, Daryl examines the scene like he would if he were tracking in the woods. The blood is starting to dry and crust around the corners, but the majority is still wet and red. The way the marks are laid out have the clear signs of something—someone?—being dragged. With a twist in his stomach, Daryl thinks he can even make out some gristle in the puddles. The trio pauses right before the curve the trail takes them to. Then, like ripping off a bandaid, they step around the aisle and are met with a horror scene.

They’ve found the source of the blood; it’s in the form of a limp man, soaked in red and torn apart, his shirt ripped clear through and the skin of his stomach clawed open, his innards reduced to slop on the ground.

Above him is another man, this one dressed in a uniform with a nametag pinned to his shirt that reads, “Hello, my name is Chad! How can I assist you?” But this is no gas station employee. He’s bent over the dead man, hunched like a monster, hands gripping clumps of flesh and organ and bringing it up to his mouth as he sloppily chews and swallows. 

“Oh my God,” Glenn breathes. At the sound, Chad the Helpful Employee lifts his head and stares at them with milky, clouded eyes. His skin is grey like the man he’s making his supper, and his mouth hangs open, a wet, gaping maw, his lower jaw moving ever so slightly in a biting motion. He makes to stand, and that’s enough for Daryl.

“Go,” he says, no room for discussion. “We’re going now.” 

Glenn doesn’t need to be told twice, but Rick hesitates.

“We should do something,” he says, still staring at the scene in horror while the monster struggles to its feet.

“Like  _ what _ ?” Glenn asks, sounding hysterical. “Dude, now is not the time to go vigilante on us. This is  _ way  _ above your pay grade, so come  _ on _ .” He gestures hurriedly towards the door.

“Rick,” Daryl says sharply. Rick debates for another second before nodding absently and walking backwards towards the door. His slow steps turn into hurried ones, and he turns around and the three of them make a beeline for the exit.

“What do we do now?” Glenn calls out to the other two as they run towards their respective vehicles. Rick’s phone is already in his hand, but it’s only up to his ear for a second before he swears and stuffs it back into his pocket.

“Calls aren’t going through, I can’t reach 911,” he says.

“The fuck is 911 gonna do about this?” Daryl asks. “We need to just fucking  _ go _ .” 

“Daryl, what’s going on?” Carol says, stepping out of the passenger side and looking at him in bemusement.

“Get back in the car now,” he says, snapping his fingers at her. She reels, taken aback by his tone. She opens her mouth to say something when a loud slam startles all of them. They turn to look at the front door and through the glass they see the monster slamming itself against it, until the door pushes open and it stumbles out.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Glenn yells. Michonne and Maggie’s voices are added to the mix, and Henry starts barking.

“Shut up all of you,” Daryl says, watching the monster amble its way towards them. “Get in your cars and don’t stop driving until we’re at my brother’s house.” There’s a beat where no one moves. “ _ Now! _ ” 

Sense seems to return to everyone at once. They pile back into their cars, slam their doors, and peel out of the parking lot with squealing tires. In his side mirror Daryl can see the monster holding its arms out, still walking after them even as they get further and further away.

“Who’s that man?” Josie says from the backseat, staring out her window, jolted awake from Henry’s barking. She wraps her arms around Henry.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Carol says.

“Is it a bad man?” Jesse asks. 

“Listen to your mother,” Daryl snaps, and both twins startle quiet. Daryl sighs and tries to control some of his adrenaline before he amends, “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m sorry. You either,” he adds to Carol. Carol looks like Daryl snapping at her is the absolute last of her worries.

“What happened in there, Daryl?” she asks, eyes wide. He shakes his head.

“Later,” he says. When Carol starts to object he gestures his head at the twins and she shuts her mouth, her lips in a thin line.

“Daddy?” Jesse asks tentatively, clearly unsure if Daryl is going to go off on him again.

“Yeah, baby?” Daryl says, gripping his hands into fists around the steering wheel and willing them to stop trembling, but the sight of that man splayed out on the linoleum floor won’t leave his mind.

“Is everything okay?” 

Daryl swallows hard, his pulse thumping in his temple like a drumbeat. He exchanges a glance with Carol.

“‘Course,” he tells his son. He looks in the rearview mirror, and while Jesse is nodding in acceptance, Josie is looking back with her brow furrowed. 

“Promise?” she asks him. Daryl wets his lower lip and tears his gaze away from Josie, not able to look at her when he says,

“Promise.”

*

They speed the rest of the way to Merle’s and make it there in record time. They pull up to his little plot of land around his shitty shack of a house and pile out of their vehicles. Rick and Glenn don’t appear to be feeling any better about what happened than Daryl is, and the women are shaken, too, but more confused than anything.

Daryl and Carol scoop a kid into each arm, and Henry jumps out and sniffs the ground. It took nearly ten full minutes for Henry’s hackles to lower and his growls to subside. The group of them head to Merle’s door and Daryl bangs on it with a fist.

Merle pulls open the first door and peers out at them through the screen one. He’s got a severe look on his face and is holding tension in his shoulders. He eyes each of them suspiciously, as if they were strangers.

“You bit?” he asks.

“What?” Daryl asks, exasperated.

“Are any of you bit?” Merle asks, enunciating each word clearly.

“No, man, the fuck are you talkin’ about? In fact, what the fuck is goin’ on at all?”

Merle does a once over all of them again, before letting out a long exhale through his front teeth. He opens the rickety, screen door and pulls both Carol and Daryl—and the twins by extension—into a crushing hug.

“C’mon inside now,” Merle says, taking a step back and addressing the lot of them. “Lotta shit’s been goin’ down and you gotta get caught up. In you get—” He steps aside and gestures for them to file in. “—Imma fill you in.” 


	2. Rhiannon

The inside of Merle’s house is as predictable as always. He has secondhand furniture, and old carpet with stains that have been there probably since the turn of the century. Daryl knows his brother tries to smoke his cigarettes outside specifically for when the twins are over, but even still there’s a faint scent of stale smoke that is embedded in the walls. There is no sign of female influence at all. When they come inside, Merle shoves a few soda cans and old pieces of mail off the couch, and moves a few dirty plates off the armchair. That being said, there isn’t any sign of anything nonkosher—not even a stray bottle of beer is in sight. He does the best he can, his brother, and those efforts never unnoticed by Daryl. 

“Uncle Merle, why did you want us to come to your house at nighttime? Aren’t you sleepy?” Josie asks, arms looped around Daryl’s neck. The little girl is heavy with exhaustion, but is refusing to let it curb her curiosity. 

“Maybe he had a bad dream, like when I dreamed about that really, really big chicken and momma and daddy let me sleep in their room to make me feel better. Do you need us to make you feel better, Uncle Merle?” Jesse asks, snuggled up against Carol.

“Seein’ y’all always makes me feel better, Double Trouble,” Merle says, ruffling Jesse’s floofy mess of hair. “And a very happy birthday to the two of you. Wish I coulda come and partied.”

“There is still leftover cake at home,” Jesse says with a yawn. “You will hafta ask Joey if you can have some though, ‘cause she don’t like to share chocolate all the time.”

“He can have a little,” Josie allows. Merle smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Mighty sweet of y’all to share, I’ll have to think on that. Tell you what, though, your uncle’s gotta have a grown up talk with the other adults, plus it’s way past your bedtime. Why don’t the two o’ you go lay down in my bed and try an’ get some shut eye so you ain’t cranky in the mornin’, alright?”

“Won’t you be cranky if you can’t go to sleep in your bed?” Jesse asks.

“Psh, you know me, I’m always cranky. Don’t worry none about that.”

“Is the grown up talk about that man at the gas station?” Josie asks. Merle falters.

“Er...what man, doll?” he asks.

“The man who walked funny that made daddy all shaky and yelly.”

Merle moves his gaze up from her to meet Daryl’s eye, who sets his jaw and doesn’t elaborate.

“We just got a lotta grown up things to talk about, but you don’t need to go worryin’ your pretty lil’ head over them. Everythin’s alright, okay?”

“But what about that man?” Josie insists.

“Baby,” Daryl says softly to his daughter. “You and JJ need to go get some sleep. You can ask more questions in the morning, but we ain’t got time right now.”

“I think that man was a alien from outer space and that’s why he was trying to chase us,” Jesse says to his sister.

“Why would he wanna chase us?” Josie asks, her tone the vocal equivalent of an eyeroll.

“‘Cause maybe he needed our car ‘cause his spaceship got stolen.”

“That’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“No one’s dumb,” Carol interjects. “But you two  _ are  _ going to go to sleep. Josie, I’m sure Uncle Merle will let Henry up on the bed with you,” she says, directing that last part to Merle expectantly. 

“Sure thing. Ain’t gonna smell no worse than that Craigslist bed already does,” he says.

“Can Stew sleep on the bed, too, Uncle Merle?” Jesse asks.

“Uh...who?” Merle asks, furrowing his brow. In response, Jesse holds out the red carrying cage he hasn’t let go of since they left Atlanta.

“Uncle Glenn got me a pet salamander and his name is Captain Beef Stew, ‘cause he’s a captain on my pirate ship like me.”

Merle blinks.

“Ah...yeah, man, Cap’n can join y’all. Best keep him in his cage, though. Salamanders don’t like bein’ held none. He can sleep in that, and that way he’ll be happy and won’t get squashed by y’all rollin’ all over the bed like you do.”

“Okay, I’ll keep him safe in his cage,” Jesse promises.

Daryl and Carol proceed to have the kids tell everyone goodnight. They take them to the bathroom, and get them situated on Merle’s lumpy, queen-sized bed. Jesse sits Stew’s cage on the bedside table, and Josie pats the mattress for Henry, who leaps up, walks in a circle, and lays down with his chin on her belly. Through the whole routine, Daryl channels his Dad Override, because during every second of putting his kids to bed he’s remembering what it looks like to see a person dig his hands into the stomach of another person and eat his guts like it’s nothing.

“I know everything’s kinda wonky right now, but try and rest, okay sweethearts?” Carol says, brushing hair off of both of the kids’ foreheads.

“Are we gonna see Auntie when we wake up?” Jesse asks, head already burrowed deep in his pillow and eyes closed.

“Yeah, we’ll go see her,” Carol says.

“What if something’s wrong with her?” Josie asks, not giving in to her exhaustion until she gets a few more questions in.

“Why would you think something’s wrong with her, sweet potato?” asks Carol.

“‘Cause everybody keeps acting funny and won’t say why, and Uncle Merle was scared that something was wrong with us. He asked us if we was bitted, remember? Why did he ask that? Why would something have bitted us?” 

Carol sighs at Daryl.

“Angel, listen to me,” Daryl says to Josie, cupping her face. “There’s stuff goin’ on, I know you’ve figured that out, but the grown ups got it handled, so I need you to trust us. Can you do that?” 

Josie chews on her lower lip in a mirror image of the way Daryl does when he’s thinking hard.

“Auntie Barb?” she asks finally.

“Auntie Barb will be just fine,” Daryl says. He leans over and presses a long kiss to her forehead. “Now sleep, baby girl, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Daryl finally gets a nod from his daughter, and he and Carol finish tucking her and Jesse in. They leave the closet light on and the door cracked. In the hallway, Carol takes hold of Daryl’s wrist, stilling him.

“I still haven’t heard from her,” she whispers to him. “Nothing.”

Daryl runs his thumb over her knuckles.

“Try and stay positive,” he whispers back. The dead man in the gas station drips blood onto the floor in his mind as he says the words. 

“‘Try and stay positive?’” Carol snorts. “Have you met me?” 

“Fair. I’ll hafta stay positive for the both of us, I guess.”

“Wow, we’re fucked.” 

“Shut up,” Daryl says, smiling. He kisses her sweetly and rests his forehead against hers. “C’mon, let’s go find out what Merle knows. Maybe we can get some goddamn answers.”

“Alright,” Carol says. “But I’m not gonna lie—I’m kind of afraid of what those answers are gonna be.”

*

_ (1:51p) *You hunt right?* _

_ (1:54p) -havent 4 a while but ya- _

_ (1:54p) -y?- _

_ (1:57p) *We're practicing debating in history class and one of the topics is the morality of hunting and I was wondering what your thoughts were.* _

_ (1:58p) -i mean i do it so ig im 4 it?- _

_ (1:59p) *Sound argument, as always.* _

_ (2:00p) -lmfao stfu u kno im bad @ tht kind of stuff- _

_ (2:00p) -wut do u wanna kno? like do i think killing animals is bad?- _

_ (2:04p) *Yeah, or like, how would you justify it? As a hunter, what do you think about the moral aspect?* _

_ (2:06p) -uh idk ig i think its p normal 2 kill 4 food- _

_ (2:09p) *So like we're predators and animals are prey and that's just how it is?* _

_ (2:14p) -more like i dnt think its wrong 2 eat meat and hunted meat is better anyway cuz animals tht r slaughtered live real fucked up lives- _

_ (2:14p) -id nvr hunt 4 sport or nything like tht tho- _

_ (2:17p) *Explain.* _

_ (2:20p) -like i dnt get y ppl kill animals 4 fun i aint nvr gonna kill nthn unless i got a reason- _

_ (2:22p) *So you're pro hunting for food, but not like, shooting pigeons bc you're bored, is that what you mean?* _

_ (2:25p) -mhm- _

_ (2:25p) -i respect wut im hunting does tht make sense?* _

_ (2:26p) *Yeah I think I get it. I like that. It makes me less concerned that you're secretly a serial killer.* _

_ (2:28p) -not sure y tht was a concern in the 1st place but ok- _

_ (2:31p) *Lol!* _

_ (2:31p) *I've never shot anything before.* _

_ (2:34p) -it sounds creepy whn u say it like tht- _

_ (2:36p) *Lmfao, well I haven't! I don't know how I'd feel if I did. I haven't even seen a gun in person.* _

_ (2:37p) -guns r w/e but i prefer using my dads crossbow whn hes gone- _

_ (2:39p) *Are you a good shot?* _

_ (2:40p) -im a gr8 shot- _

_ (2:42p) *You must be, bc you're not usually that confident.* _

_ (2:44p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯- _

_ (2:46p) *Lol.* _

_ (2:46p) *Can I see you shoot?* _

_ (2:48p) -if u want- _

_ (2:48p) -u staying over 2nite?- _

_ (2:49p) *That was the plan, yes.* _

_ (2:50p) -i'll show u my hunting stuff when u get off work if u still r interested- _

_ (2:50p) -dnt feel like u gotta b it aint 4 everyone- _

_ (2:52p) *Tbh I have this morbid curiosity about the whole thing. Maybe if you teach me it'll be less "omg scary guns", you know?* _

_ (2:53p) -k well lmk im happy 2 show u- _

_ (2:54p) *Thanks. :)* _

_ (2:55p) -mhm. have a gud shift- _

_ (2:56p) *Unlikely!* _

_ (2:56p) *Later, Pookie. ;)* _

_ (2:59p) -jfc- _

_ (2:59p) -stop- _

*

In Merle’s living room everybody is spread around. Rick, Michonne, and Maggie are on the couch, Merle is leaning on his forearms on the back of the couch, and Glenn is on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest. Daryl leads Carol to the armchair and has her sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around her waist and she places her hands on top of his.

“So what’s the deal?” Carol asks.

“We were waiting on you,” Glenn says.

“Well we’re here, so get on with it then,” Daryl says to his brother.

“Kids asleep?” Merle asks, glancing towards the hallway that leads to the bedroom.

“Yeah, they ain’t listenin’, so Imma need you to start talkin’, ‘cause I watched a dude eat a guy’s intestines like he was at a goddamn buffet and I need to know what the  _ fuck  _ that was about.”

“You  _ what _ ?” Carol asks, shifting in his lap to see his face, her eyes blown wide. “At the gas station? What do you mean you saw him  _ eating  _ someone?”

“He means it exactly how it sounds,” Rick says. “The cashier, he’d killed this customer—I think that’s who he was; some normal guy getting gas like us—and he was just...ripping into him.”

“It was like a horror movie,” Glenn says, staring out at nothing, his voice distant, and Daryl knows that the same scene that's playing on repeat in his head is haunting his friends as well.

“So that is what really happened? Glenn didn’t just...I dunno, see things?” Maggie asks, her fingers clenching the couch cushion like a life preserver. 

“That’s what happened,” Daryl mutters, playing with a springy curl on the back of Carol’s head. To Merle he asks, “ _ Why _ did it happen, though?”

Merle swallows hard, scrunching his nose like he’s smelling something foul as he rubs the nape of his neck. He says, quietly,

“Went to the town over to meet with my sponsor—Bob, I mentioned him once or twice, yeah? Ex-military, a drunk, kinda obnoxious with the whole ‘glass half-full’ shit? But he was alright to talk to and he invited me over for supper now and again, so I was like, what the hell, right?

“So I get out there and know there’s trouble right from the jump ‘cause I roll up onto his property, and the first thing I hear when I kill the engine is this moanin’. Not no fun whoopie-type moanin’, neither, but like somebody's hurt. I get off the bike and go up to the house where I find Bob lyin’ on the floor of his porch just drenched—I mean,  _ drenched _ —in his own sweat, and he’s there moanin’ and groanin’ and graspin’ at his leg, and that’s when I notice there’s a big ol’ chunk taken outta it. Clean through his sweats like someone came up and just bit on him he was a T-bone steak.

“I helped him inside and sat on his couch, and it takes a lil’ while to get any sense outta him, right? Not his fault, his brains had to of been boilin’ with how high his fever was. Coulda fried an egg on his skin, dude was a fuckin’ furnace.

“Finally, after I get some water in him, he gets some of his wits about ‘im and tells me he’d been bit at the convenience store a few miles north, and I’m like, no shit, but by  _ what _ ? And this mother, he looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘not what— _ who _ .’

“Goes on to say he knows the chick—I guess he knew the owner of the store from way-back-when—but when he pulled up that afternoon there was somethin’ wrong with her. He said her face was all pale and her eyes were white like smoke, and when he backed away from her he tripped and fell, and that’s when she sank her teeth into his leg.

“By the time he got away and got home he was already startin’ to sweat. He sat out on the porch ‘cause the cool air felt better, and come two, three hours later when I pulled up, dude’s basically on death’s door.

“Tried callin’ 911, o’ course, but the lines was all busy, until suddenly they wasn’t even goin’ through at all no more. I sat with him—tried to get him to take some meds, or get in his truck with me so I could take him to the hospital—but he was too damn sick to move.

“I was lookin’ up fever remedies online when I got pulled into a million and one breaking news stories about similar shit happenin’. Every second there was somethin’ new. People were talkin’ ‘bout headin’ to Atlanta, ‘cause that’s where the CDC’s at, and then comments under that were people sayin’ the roads were blocked, and under  _ that  _ was people sayin’ they was stuck in the city with no way out and shit was spreadin’ like wildfire—it was hittin’ the fan, man. That’s why the second the official broadcast came on, the first thing I did was tell y’all to run, ‘cause otherwise I didn’t think you was gettin’ out.” Merle rubs his face and blows out a breath. “Thank god you did.”

“What happened to Bob?” Carol asks quietly. Merle keeps his head bowed.

“Died,” he says. “Right next to me on that couch. But then…”

“But then what?” Rick asks. Merle grimaces.

“Then he came back,” he says.

“Came back?” asks Michonne.

“As one o’ them. I had to...he was there, dead as a doornail one second, and I was tryna figure out what the hell to do about it, and then all of a sudden he was lungin’ for me, teeth snappin’, eyes crazy. I didn’t know what to...I broke a leg off a chair and I...Fuck, man, I bashed his fuckin’ head in.” 

Daryl can see his brother’s hands trembling.

“You were protecting yourself,” Carol says. Her grip on Daryl’s forearm is iron tight.

“I murdered my friend,” Merle says. To Rick, he asks, “That was murder, right?”

Rick opens his mouth and then closes it, shrugging helplessly.

“This is outside my jurisdiction,” he says finally, with no hint of irony in his tone, and Daryl doesn’t think he just means the county. This whole situation is way above any of their pay grades. 

“So what then?” Michonne asks, rubbing her temples. “This illness, whatever the fuck it is, is killing people and then making them come back as, what? Bloodthirsty monsters? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I do, but I saw what I saw,” Merle says. “And God knows I wish I didn’t—almost wish I fell off the wagon and this all was some bad trip—but I got clothes sittin’ in my washin’ machine right now that are covered in my friend’s blood, and it didn’t get there ‘cause I went and lost my mind.”

Merle’s face is green, like he wants to throw up, and Daryl can relate, because his own stomach is churning dangerously with the stress of it all.

“It tracks,” he mutters, grounding himself by breathing in the rose scented lotion Carol always wears. “With what we three saw at that gas station. Dude was up and movin’ around, but his eyes…”

“They looked dead,” Glenn finishes for him when he trails off.

“And the bites? That’s how it’s spread?” Carol asks.

“Far as I can figure,” Merle says.

“And there’s been nothing else besides the warning message from the CDC? Nothing to tell us what to do if we come across one of these…?” Maggie asks.

“Signals keep goin’ in and out. Nothin’ official from the government’s been said, big surprise there,” says Merle with a scowl. “Local news and some radio stations been givin’ out advice, but you gotta be able to access it, and my shit’s all cheap and don’t work great even when the world ain’t fallin’ apart. I stopped gettin’ regular updates hours ago. Y’all?”

“We heard a bit of somethin’ on the radio,” Daryl says. “They said there was a death toll, though we didn’t hear the number.”

“And they said something about going for the head,” Carol says darkly. “Was that...do you think they meant that’s how we, you know, kill, or, I mean,  _ stop  _ them?” 

There is an elephant in the room no one is wanting to address—a line Merle already crossed—and that’s the question of what the moral implications are if they come across someone who’s infected and they have to protect themselves. Suddenly those weapons in the back of their van seem a lot more daunting to Daryl now that it’s been suggested they may actually have a use.

“I can’t,” Glenn says then, broaching the subject none of them will touch. “I can’t kill someone. I won’t.”

“You think that now, boy, but I’m tellin’ you, when one of them things start baring their teeth at you like they’s about to make you their next meal, the instincts that kick in are nothin’ but pure primal shit. All you think about is survival. If it comes down to it, you will,” Merle says, and Glenn blanches. 

“‘Them things,’” Maggie repeats, her expression sour. “They’re  _ people _ . That man was your friend.”

“What the fuck did you expect me to do? Let him kill me? The law allows for defense, lil’ missy, so jump off that high horse. You weren’t there.”

“I’m not saying what you did was right or wrong, but it seems dangerous to go down the path of dehumanizing the infected this early. We know next to nothing. For all we know there’s a cure and everyone that gets a stab to the head is someone who could have made it through.”

“You didn’t see it, Maggie,” Daryl says quietly. “What we saw in that gas station? Merle’s right. That weren’t no human no more. I can’t believe there’s any drug on Earth that could cure what we saw.” He waits for Rick and Glenn to back him up.

“There wasn’t any coming back from that,” Rick confirms with a sigh. Put out, Maggie turns to Glenn as a last resort. Very slowly, he shakes his head.

“I can’t kill them,” he says solemnly. “But there isn’t another alternative either.”

Maggie deflates like a popped balloon. Michonne puts a hand on her knee and squeezes. 

“We’re all scared,” she says, looking at Maggie but addressing the room at large. All we got to go on are crumbs of answers, and a couple horror stories. It’s late, we’re exhausted, and we’re confused. I say we try and get a few hours of sleep and see what we can find out come daylight, because we’re not getting anywhere right now.”

“We need to check on our families,” Carols says, and Daryl knows she’s thinking of Barb.

“We do,” Michonne agrees. “In the morning.”

There’s reluctant acceptance. Daryl isn’t sure anyone older than the age of six is going to get any substantial sleep tonight, but he and Carol get up anyway and help Merle lay out musty smelling blankets on the couch, chair, and floor.

“Do you guys mind if Daryl and I take the room?” Carol asks. “I need to be close to my babies right now.”

They get a chorus of “of courses” and “no problems,” and the two of them step quietly into Merle’s bedroom where both twins are out like a light. Jesse is on his back, breathing slow and deep with his lips parted, and Josie is curled on her side, hands gripping her brother’s pajama shirt, affectionate only in her sleep. Henry, who has moved to the end of the bed, lifts his head at Daryl and Carol when they walk in, the tags on his collar knocking together and tinkling like a tiny wind chime.

“Shh,” Carol whispers to the dog, scratching him behind the ear. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye on them, boy.”

Henry, who may have been claimed by Josie, but has never forgotten his first favorite, leans into Carol’s touch and gives her hand an affectionate nip.

Daryl unties his boots and kicks them aside before crawling into the bed beside Jesse. Carol does the same on Josie’s side. Wordlessly, they reach over the kids and grasp hands, sandwiching their twins between them, as though it will protect them from whatever dangers are lurking outside the bed. 

Daryl knows his wife well enough to know she’s surely sick of platitudes, and so he offers none. Instead, he gives her hand a squeeze and whispers, “I love you,” because that, at least, is one thing he can promise is fact. 

“Love you, too,” she whispers back. She rests her head down on the edge of the pillow Josie’s hogging, and kisses the top of the little girl’s head. Daryl nuzzles in beside his son, resting his forehead against his shoulder. They fall asleep like that, cocooned together, safe.

_ Safe _ , Daryl thinks, sleep overtaking him,  _ for now _ . 

*

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Daryl is woken up by tiny voices whispering. 

“What do you think the grown ups were talking about last night?” 

“I think it was about the aliens.”

“It’s  _ not  _ aliens, dummy. There is no aliens anywhere. I saw it in a book.”

“Maybe they talk about aliens in the big kid books.”

“It  _ was  _ a big kid book.”

“Nuh-uh, you only read books that still have pictures. Big kid books only have words.”

“Well my books have more words than  _ yours _ . You still read the kindergarten books.” 

“So what? We  _ are _ in kindergarten, 'sides, I  _ like  _ pictures.”

“You won’t learn if your books don’t have lots of words.”

“Did you know stegosaurus's have four pointy things on their tails that they use to fight mean dinosaurs that are tryna hurt them?”

“No. Why do  _ you _ know that?”

“I saw it in a picture book.” 

“Whatever, you’re being stupid.”

“Ok, fine. If it’s not aliens then what do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know. Something scary I think.”

“‘Cause everyone was being weird?”

“Yeah. Momma and daddy don’t let us get up really late at night unless something important is happening. Like remember when there was that big thunderstorm and there was tornado sirens and they woked us up at nighttime to go to the basement?”

“Maybe there’s a scary animal outside that we’re hiding from.”

“Why a animal?”

“‘Cause people keep talking about bites. Mean animals bite you, right?”

“Mm, yeah, that’s true. But that man at the gas station wasn’t a animal.”

“Maybe he got bitted by a animal and it made him sick. Like how Henry has to get a shot from the vet so he doesn’t get scabies.”

“Rabies.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“You think maybe there are animals with rabies and that’s what people are scared of?”

“No, I think it was aliens.”

“Your brain is so dumb sometimes.” 

“Don’t call your brother dumb,” comes Carol’s groggy voice on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, hi momma, I didn’t know you was awake,” says Jesse, smiling a big good morning greeting like he does every day. 

“Momma, did you guys all talk about the grown up stuff? Did you fix it? Do we get to go home? How come we had to leave? Will you tell us why? Was it rabies? Was it—omph.” 

“I’ve been awake five seconds, baby, you gotta cool it with the questions at least until I’ve taken a piss,” Daryl says, reaching over and covering Josie’s mouth with his hand.

“Piss is a bad word,” Josie says, voice muffled.

“I’m the dad, I can say bad words,” Daryl says, pulling his hand back and stretching his stiff body out the best he can on the cramped bed. 

“Hi daddy,” Jesse says, smiling at him. Daryl ruffles his hair.

“Hey kiddo,” he mutters.

“Are we gonna go see Auntie Barb now?” Josie asks. At Daryl’s raised eyebrow she adds, “Oh, that was a question, huh?”

“We’ll go as soon as everybody's awake and ready,” Daryl says. He chews on his lower lip and to Carol asks, “Any texts?”

“Uh,” she says, patting around for her phone. “No. But I also don’t have service—oh no.”

“What?” Daryl asks, alarmed.

“I didn’t do any Duo yesterday. I broke my streak.”

“Oh my god,” Daryl says, throwing a pillow at her. “That’s it, I’m goin’ to go see who’s up and take a P.I.S.S.” 

“I know that spells piss,” says Josie.

“My streak was in the hundreds, babe.”

“I need something to feed Stew.”

“Goodbye,” Daryl says. He gets out of bed, rolling his head to ease some of the tension out of his neck. He notices the digital clock on the nightstand is blinking, stuck on “12:00a,” meaning the power must have gone out at some point last night at least once. He pads out of the room and uses the toilet, before going to check on the others.

It’s quiet in the living room. Michonne is curled up in a ball on the chair, with Rick sleeping at the base of it. Daryl walks past the couch where Glenn and Maggie are crammed together and sees that Glenn is awake, stroking his girlfriend’s hair, looking lost in thought, until he notices Daryl. He nods a greeting that Daryl returns.

“Merle?” Daryl mouths. Glenn gestures towards the front door, where Daryl can make out the shape of his brother through the screen. He mutters a thanks and heads that way.

Merle is on the stoop, taking a drag on a cigarette and surveying the yard like he’s waiting for something to pop out from behind the trees at any moment. He doesn’t acknowledge Daryl right away when he sits down beside him.

“How’d you sleep?” Merle asks after their silence has dragged on a few beats.

“Shitty,” says Daryl. “You?”

“Didn’t.” He ashes his cigarette and watches the cherry on it burn. “Couldn’t.”

“What’ve you been doin’ then?”

“Keepin’ watch.”

“That what we do now? Sit up all night keepin’ an eye out for monsters?”

“Don’t got a clue on what we do now. I’m just goin’ with my gut.”

“Yeah,” Daryl breathes, rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up in the autumn morning chill.

“The kids?” Merle asks.

“Fine. Or fine as they can be. Jojo won’t let up—knows somethin’s goin' on.”

“JJ?”

“Head in the clouds like always. Thinks it’s either aliens or rabies.”

“Rabies?”

“Mhm, ‘cause he keeps hearin’ people talk about bites. He told Jojo it might be an animal biting people and makin’ ‘em sick.”

“Huh,” Merle says, twisting his mouth. “Kid might not be far off.”

“With the rabies or the aliens?” Daryl asks making Merle snort. “Carol needs us to go check on Barb. Me too. We ain’t heard from her.”

“Figured.”

“The others are gonna need to check on their families too.”

“Figured that too.”

“Rick’s parents are visitin’ friends in Minnesota, but Glenn’s parents are up by the school, and Michonne’s momma ain’t too far away. Was thinkin’ we split up, let everyone go check on who they gotta, and then we meet back up and head out to Maggiie’s daddy’s farm. Might be a safe place to hole up for a bit—won’t be nobody but us, you know?”

“You think it’s smart to split up? Phone service’s been off more often than not. Worse than it was last night. Might not be able to get in touch with one another if things go sour.”

“Town’s small, and we’ll pick a rendezvous spot and time. If someone don’t show up it’ll be easy to figure out where they was headed. This way we cover more ground quicker, and we don’t gotta fight over who gets to check on their family first.”

“Aight. I’m game. I’ll go with y’all, of course; follow you on the bike. You got anythin’ to protect yourself with? If it comes down to it, I mean?”

“Yeah. Got enough guns and shit in the back to take down all’a Georgia. Don’t let the kids know or see nothin’, though, okay? Keep all’a this under wraps for as long as you can. We don’t need to scare ‘em.”

“‘Course not. If it becomes necessity, though, you gonna have it in you to explain to them that they might hafta protect themselves?”

“ _ I’m _ gonna protect ‘em, Merle.”

“Ain’t sayin’ you won’t,” his brother says calmly, putting out his cigarette and flicking it into the yard. “But sometimes protection means givin’ someone the tools they need to watch their own back.”

“They’re  _ six _ .”

“And there’s monsters walkin’ around. Normal rules don’t apply no more, baby brother. I just want you to be prepared for that.”

Daryl says nothing, resisting the thought of his kids having to defend themselves from anything, and knowing Merle is right at the same time. Beside him, Merle rustles around for something.

“Here,” he says a moment later. Daryl glances over to see Merle holding a sheathed knife out to him. When Daryl doesn’t reach for it, Merle says, “Take it, keep it on you, just in case. We’ll look at all the weapons we got later at that farm you was talkin’ about, but for now you hang onto that.”

Hesitantly, Daryl takes the knife from his brother and secures it in his belt.

“Do you think I’ll need it?” he asks. “Do you think we’re gonna have to do more of...more of what you had to do?”

Merle is silent at first, opting instead to pull another cigarette from his pack. The click of his lighter sounds as he sucks on the filter until the tip turns red. He lets a long stream of smoke blow out between his pursed lips.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I do.”

*

The drive to Carol’s aunt’s house is tense. In the passenger seat, Carol is radiating anxiety, her knuckles popping as she cracks them over and over. In the backseat Josie is clearly trying to bite her tongue of the millions of questions filling her little brain, and Jesse has the lid to his salamander’s cage cracked open while dangling a worm he found above it.

“Uncle Merle said Stew is knocked turtle,” he says to whoever’s listening.

“Nocturnal,” Josie corrects automatically, like she’s not even aware she’s saying it as she stares out the window, lost in thought.

“He pro’ly doesn’t wanna eat right now then, huh? If this is his bedtime?” Jesse drops the worm into the cage and shuts the lid, muttering something like, “That can be your breakfast for later, buddy.”

The trip is simultaneously too long and too short, the anxiety of waiting to get there mixed with the feeling of dread from what they may find overwhelming Daryl from both sides.

“It’s so quiet,” Carol says. She’s referring to the town around them. There are no other cars on the road, no one stepping out onto their porches to retrieve their morning papers, no kids out waiting for the school bus.

“It’s early,” Daryl says. 

“Not that early,” Carol mutters. Daryl doesn’t reply. Instead, he silently follows Merle, taking a right turn onto Barb’s street. They get to her house, Merle parking on the street, and Daryl pulling into the driveway. 

“She’s home,” he says. “Or least her car is here. Pro’ly means she ain’t on her way to Atlanta or nothin’, that’s good.”

“Mm,” Carol hums, not placated in the slightest. She glances in the rearview mirror and whispers, “Should we leave the kids in the car? Have one of us stay with?”

“Why would you leave us in the car?” Josie asks immediately, clearly paying closer attention than her distracted expression a few moments ago suggested. 

“Shush,” Daryl tells his daughter gently. To Carol he says, “I’d rather us all be together. That makes the most sense, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Carol says, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Crack the window for Henry, then.”

Daryl does as he’s told and then helps get the kids out of the van. The twins hop out and he and Carol make them hold their hands to prevent them from running up to the house without them. The whole street is eerily vacant. The old woman next door, who always sits on her porch swing in the mornings drinking tea, is nowhere to be found, and that one small thing unsettles Daryl more than anything else, as though this one discrepancy is an obvious glitch in the matrix, and proof that things out here are Not Right.

Silently, all of them, Merle included, approach the front door. Even Jesse, with his ever-running mouth, seems to pick up on the mood, and his lips remain sealed. Carol raises a tentative hand to the door and knocks three times in rapid succession, following it up with a ring of the doorbell, which they can hear dinging faintly from inside.

They wait.

Nothing.

She knocks again.

Nothing.

Carol turns to Daryl, face neutral for the kids, but eyes worried. Daryl gives her a reassuring pat on the back before reaching out and trying the knob. It turns easily. He opens the door a crack and pops his head inside.

“Hey, Barb?” he calls out. “You here? It’s us and the kids.” In response he’s met with a chorus of meows, and a couple of Carol’s aunt’s less shy cats come sauntering over, mewling. Daryl pushes them away with his foot so they don’t run outside, and goes the rest of the way into the house. His family follows. He drops Josie’s hand, but warns, “Stay with us, okay?” Josie opens her mouth to ask a question, but stops herself when Daryl shakes his head.

“Auntie?” Carol says tentatively. 

“Probably she is sleeping,” Jesse whispers, still holding onto Carol. One of the cats brushes up against his legs, and he drops his mother’s hand in order to reach down and scratch under its chin. “I think the kitties are hungry. They yell like that when it’s breakfast time.”

“Auntie Barb never forgets to feed her cats,” Josie says darkly. No one says anything to that, but they all know she’s right.

“Imma check the kitchen,” Merle announces, his hand on his belt where Daryl suspects is another knife hidden, like the one he’d given to him.

While his brother rummages around in the next room, Daryl takes stock of the scene. He approaches the couch, and notices a half-empty glass of water with a thermometer sat beside it. Carol comes up next to him and sees it as well. He feels her tense.

“She had a fever,” she says in an undertone only he can hear.

“She checked her temperature at some point, that’s all we know,” Daryl says, ignoring her skeptical look. He starts to move away, when something catches his eye. Careful not to alert Carol, he squints at the back couch cushion. There is a small stain, easy to miss, but it’s the unmistakable rust color of dried blood. 

He doesn’t mention it, but he proceeds now with his hackles raised even higher, his own knife burning a hole against his thigh to remind him it’s there.

“Nothin’ in the kitchen or dinin’ room. Let’s check upstairs,” Merle says, joining them once again.

The five of them head up the stairs with Merle leading. At the top, the hallway is dark, the only light filtering in from the windows through the open door at the end. Daryl can make out a small lump of a shape up ahead, and he assumes it’s one of the cats. Cautiously, they make their way down the hall.

They’re almost there when Merle halts abruptly, flinging his arm out to stop the rest of them.

“Get the kids outta here, don’t let ‘em see,” Merle says sharply, but it’s too late. Josie stands stock still, hands flying up to grip Daryl’s sleeve, her eyes blown wide, and Jesse lets out a sharp scream, moving to hide behind Carol.

Daryl was partially right when he assumed there was a cat, because lying on the carpet is part of a cat. It’s fur is clumped and matted with blood. Its body has been gnawed on, and its flesh has been ripped from its bones. Daryl hardly has a chance to process the scene before he’s blindsided a second time. He hears a guttural moaning, and from the bedroom emerges Barb.

Except it isn’t Barb.

It has Barb’s face—her body, her hair, her clothes—but it isn’t her. This is something else; something inhuman. Its eyes are smoky white, and its teeth are bared as it walks with a limp towards them, arms reaching out at them like the thing at the gas station had done.

“Take the kids and go,” Daryl says to Carol. Carol doesn’t move, and Josie is still clinging to his arm, frozen. Jesse is the only one backing away, making a horrible whimpering sound that breaks Daryl’s heart even as it beats in double time with fear. “ _ Go _ ,” he shouts, voice coming from deep in his chest, and it’s enough to startle Carol into action. She gathers the kids up and starts shoving them towards the stairs. Josie resists, trying to look back at the scene unfolding in the hall.

Barb’s reanimated corpse ambles closer and closer until her fingers graze against Merle’s chest. Careful to avoid her teeth, Merle goes around her and holds her arms behind her back, stilling her in place.

“Do it,” Merle says to Daryl, sounding strained as Barb thrashes around in his grasp. Daryl’s fingers itch, inching towards his knife. Barb is snarling and snapping like a rabid animal. Merle says, louder this time, “Do it, damnit!”

He doesn’t give himself time to think. Daryl snatches the knife from his belt, unsheathes it, and in one fluid motion, drives it into Barb’s temple. It sticks at first, refusing to break through the hard bone of her skull, but he finds the sweet spot, and after a moment of struggle, the blade slides into the soft matter inside her head. Barb stops thrashing instantly; stops doing anything. Merle lets go, and she slumps to the ground in a heap, motionless. Dead.

Daryl, chest heaving, stumbles backwards and glances over at the stairs, just in time to see Josie’s wide eyes staring back at him, until Carol drags her away by the elbow.

Daryl leans against the wall, dizzy and weak. He tries taking in slow breaths. He looks at Barb’s body. The wound in her head is leaking blood that’s soaking into the carpet and into her massacred cat’s fur. 

Daryl vomits right there in the hallway.

*

After washing up in the downstairs bathroom, Daryl tries to find the nerve to go face his family on the front porch. He keeps hearing the whimpers of his son and seeing the terrified eyes of his daughter, and his stomach lurches all over again. He’d much rather lay on the bathmat in the fetal position and wait there until he wakes up from whatever bullshit nightmare this is. But it isn’t a dream. He knows this, and hates that he does, as he finally leaves the bathroom and goes out the front door to where everyone has gathered. 

Merle is smoking, leaning back against a pillar, eyes closed. Carol is rocking Jesse on the top stair, both of them crying softly. Josie is sat on the very bottom stair, curled in on herself, back towards them all. 

At the sound of the door opening, Josie glances over her shoulder. She takes one look at Daryl and pops up, running away around the side of the house.

“Josie, no!” Carol cries out, panicked, moving to stand, but Daryl puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and mutters,

“I’ll get her.”

Daryl follows to the back gate that Josie has pushed open. He steps into the backyard and finds the little girl in an even tighter ball on the patterned stone ground, her face buried against her knees. 

“Hey,” Daryl says softly, keeping at a distance. “You don’t gotta be okay with me right now, but you can’t go runnin’ off like that, alright? Shit’s dangerous out here, and I gotta know where you’re at. Don’t leave momma or daddy’s sight for nothin’, you hear me?” 

Josie doesn’t acknowledge him, but nor does she attempt to run again. Daryl decides to chance it, and approaches her. He hovers above her awkwardly for a moment, before sitting down on the stone as well. Without looking at him, she shifts a few inches away. Daryl sighs.

“I get it,” he says, picking up a twig off the ground and fiddling with it. “You saw somethin’ you shouldn’t have seen and I get why you’re scared of me."

Scared of him. He’s scary. Daryl can’t think of anything worse he could be to his children, but he can’t blame her. She just watched him stab her aunt to death with a knife. 

But then Josie surprises him by saying, muffled because she still won’t lift up her head, “I’m not scared of you.”

“No?” Daryl asks. “Then why’d you run away from me?”

Josie doesn’t respond right away. Daryl waits patiently until she finally decides to look at him, jaw set and eyes narrowed.

“I’m mad at you,” she says. Daryl nods.

“That makes sense,” he says. “What you saw—pro’ly seemed pretty bad.”

“Not that,” Josie says with a huff, like it should be obvious that’s not what she’s referring to. “You and Uncle Merle were protecting us. Something was wrong with Auntie. Something bad. You wouldn’t hurt her for no reason.” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Daryl agrees. “But if that ain’t the problem then why are you mad?”

“‘Cause you lied.”

Daryl blinks.

“Whaddya mean?”

“You said,” she informs him in a calculated tone. “That everything was gonna be okay. That the grown ups were gonna handle it. That Auntie Barb was gonna be fine. But everything is  _ not _ okay, and Auntie Barb is  _ not _ fine, and so you  _ lied _ .” 

Daryl chews on his lower lip, frowning at the twig in his hand.

“I didn’t want you and your brother to worry. This ain’t somethin’ for lil ones to be concernin’ themselves with. It’s grown up stuff.”

Josie scoffs.

“That’s dumb,” she says. “Jesse and me are big kids.”

“Baby, you’re six.”

“So? I can read a lotta words, and Jesse draws the best out of everyone in our whole class, and Kyle at school still wets the bed but we don’t ever do that.”

“That’s true,” Daryl says with a small smile. “But that don’t mean you’re old enough for big, scary stuff like this.”

“I saw the scary stuff anyways,” Josie reminds him. “If you didn’t lie I wouldn’t have been so scared ‘cause it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I think it’d be pretty scary either way, kiddo. But I get your point. I’m sorry I lied. I wasn’t tryna hurt you. I was tryna protect you.”

“Well,” Josie says, crossing her arms. “Don’t tell me no more bullshit.”

Daryl shakes his head with a snort, rubbing his face with his hand. He drops his arm and looks fondly at his daughter.

“Okay,” he says. “No more bullshit.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. But you gotta remember that the truth ain’t always happy, and sometimes I might need to tell you nothin’ at all, if it’s a really big grown up thing. But no lies. Deal?” 

Josie considers the proposition, twisting her mouth, before nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” she says.

“You gotta do the same for me, though,” Daryl says. “And I got a question for you right now.”

“What question?”

“How you doin’? For real?”

“I dunno,” Josie says frowning. “My tummy feels funny, like when you get butterflies, but they’re not good butterflies. It’s like they are angry in my belly. Do you know what I mean? Do you get angry butterflies?”

“I do. Got ‘em right now.”

“Are you scared, daddy?”

Daryl inhales deeply.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, baby, I’m scared.”

“I think I might be scared, too.”

“That’s okay, we can be scared together. What else are you feelin’? What about sad?” 

“Sad because of Auntie?”

“Mhm.”

Josie plays with the end of her braid and shrugs, decidedly not looking at Daryl.

“C’mere,” Daryl says, taking her silence as an answer. He lifts Josie up onto his lap and holds her against his chest, stroking her hair.

“I dunno what’s gonna happen, baby,” he whispers in her ear. “But I know that me and your momma love JJ and you more than anythin’, and we’re gonna do what we can to make things right. And that ain’t no bullshit, sweet thing, that’s straight truth.” 

Josie nods against him, snuggling in closer like she rarely does. After a few minutes, when Daryl is about to suggest they go find the others before they start to worry, Josie asks, in an impossibly small voice,

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“Can we sing my song?”

Daryl grins and kisses the top of her head.

“‘Course we can. You gotta do most of it, though. You know your daddy can’t sing worth a damn.”

“You gotta tell the story first.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl says, preparing the story he’s told a thousand times. “So way back when—six whole years ago, almost to the day—your momma and me went to the hospital ‘cause it was time for you and your brother to be born.”

“But momma was scared of hospitals,” Josie says, supplying the next part of the story she knows by heart.

“Real scared, and to have you they had to put her in a big room with lots of people and super bright lights, and so to make her feel safer, her doctor let her play her favorite music.”

“Fleetwood Mac.”

“Damn straight. Your momma loves her some Fleetwood Mac. And so when you two was born, you both go your own song.”

“Jesse’s is ‘Go Your Own Way’.”

“Yep.”

“And Henry’s is ‘Little Lies,’ but that was his favorite before me and Jesse was born.”

“That’s true,” Daryl says with a laugh. “And what was yours?”

“‘Rhiannon’.” 

“Mhm. So now, whenever I hear that song, I think of the moment I first ever saw you. I think about how I couldn’t do nothin’, not even breathe, and then I held your hand and kissed your forehead and loved you to the moon and back just like that.” 

“I didn’t cry.”

“Nope, not at first. You never been much of a crier. But when you did cry, oh man, the whole damn block could hear you.” 

Josie giggles.

“Okay, we can sing now.”

“Mkay, but you gotta start.”

“ _ Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her, _ " Josie sings, off-key.

“ _ Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? _ " Daryl joins in softly, even more off-key.

Together they sing the song terribly, beginning to end, and when it’s over they both feel a little bit safer than they did before they began.

*

Carol hasn’t stopped looking shell-shocked since they saw the mangled cat, and Daryl would do anything in the world to fix this for her, but he can’t. Not everything can be cured with a song; nothing has been cured, period, but he wants to ease her burden like he did for Josie, except he doesn’t know how.

“What do we do with her body?” Carol asks. She then looks down at Jesse on her lap apologetically, but the little boy is lost in his own head, staring off into space with red-rimmed eyes.

“Leave it for now,” Merle says, and Carol scoffs.

“Just let her stay there like that?” she asks in a harsh whisper.

“Darlin’,” Merle says gentiler. “We ain’t got no 911 to call, no coroner to come and collect, and I’m guessin’ y’all ain’t wantin’ to be chauffeurs, now are you?” 

Carol grimaces, and Daryl wraps an arm around her, saying, “If we can, we’ll come back for her, alright? Do it proper. But right now we need to meet up with the others and make sure everyone’s okay.”

“Alright,” Carol mutters, leaning into Daryl’s touch. “I just...this doesn’t feel right. Not that it would, but I don’t...what’s the right way to feel about all of this, Daryl?” She sounds so helpless, and Daryl has nothing to give her.

“Don’t think there’s any answer to that, sweetheart,” he says, brushing his lips against her temple. “For now we just gotta go forward and take it one step at a time.”

Carol opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s cut off by Jesse.

“Isaac at school says dead people go to Heaven where God lives and you fly around with angels, but I don’t think that’s true,” Jesse interjects, with a topic no one was talking about. “I think you go somewhere different.”

Carol brushes his hair back from his forehead.

“And where is that, sweet potato?” she asks.

“Everybody goes to their own place up in the clouds. My teacher says that clouds are just water, but I think that when you die they aren’t no more. They’re like pillows. And you get your own cloud, and you get to eat your favorite food every day, and you get to watch TV past your bedtime.”

The adults all smile good-naturedly at him, but Josie asks, “If everyone has their own cloud then you’d never see your family again.”

“No, ‘course you can visit other clouds too,” Jesse explains. “And since we are twins you and me would share a cloud. And momma, you don’t gotta be too sad about Auntie, because you’ll get to see her when you visit her cloud.”

A tear drips down Carol’s nose.

“That’ll be real nice, Jesse,” she whispers.

“And don’t worry ‘cause Auntie will be happy, ‘cause she’ll have all her kitties, and she’ll even be allowed to drink wine. Remember how she says she wishes she could still have wine ‘cause it’s her favorite, but it’s not good for her? When you die wine is good for you.”

“Cheers to that,” Merle says, while Daryl and Carol laugh.

“Daddy?” Josie asks then. “Is Jesse right? Is that what happens when you die?” 

“I hope so, baby,” Daryl says, and he’s not bullshittng her at all.

*

_ (4:09p) *Hey.* _

_ (4:10p) -hey. it over?- _

_ (4:12p) *Yeah.* _

_ (4:13p) -how u doin?- _

_ (4:15p) *Idk, it was kind of stupid. Like there were all these people there that hadn’t come to visit mom in fucking years, and they all were acting like her best friends.* _

_ (4:15p) *If one more person talks to me like I’m three and tells me they’re sorry for my loss I’m gonna start throwing punches.* _

_ (4:16p) -i mean if it helps u cope- _

_ (4:17p) *Lmfao* _

_ (4:17p) *The service itself was very jesusy and I’m convinced there were a million prayers in it just because the preacher didn’t know what tf else to say.* _

_ (4:18p) -ya i barely rmbr my moms funeral but i rmbr we prayed at least 50000 times- _

_ (4:19p) *Right? It was just weird and I felt super disconnected from the whole thing.* _

_ (4:19p) *I’m not judging ppl who have gotten “closure” or w/e from funerals, but mostly I feel like I just wasted an afternoon.* _

_ (4:19p) *My aunt kinda surprised me tho.* _

_ (4:21p) -how so?- _

_ (4:22p) *She sat w/ me thru the whole thing and was a buffer between me and dad.* _

_ (4:22p) *She cracked a few jokes with me during the service, which made me feel better, and also pissed off the randos sitting next to us.* _

_ (4:23p) *She also told me that I can come stay with her for as long as I want. She said she didn’t realize how bad it had been at home w/ dad and she wanted to help and like…* _

_ (4:23p) *That’s the first time anyone, not including you, has acknowledged how toxic my home life is.* _

_ (4:24p) -she sounds decent- _

_ (4:25p) *She is. She and my mom were estranged so I can’t super blame her for not being around much.* _

_ (4:25p) *She’s not lying when she said she genuinely didn’t know how bad everything was. I don’t think she would have stood for it otherwise. She mistakenly believed my dad wasn’t a piece of shit.* _

_ (4:26p) *Idk, it’s a relief to have somewhere to go when I can’t stay at your place. I really didn’t want to go home.* _

_ (4:27p) -im glad u got ur aunt she seems like someone u need- _

_ (4:27p) -good family isnt smthn we’re used 2 u kno?- _

_ (4:28p) *Yeah, tell me about it.* _

_ (4:28p) *It feels good to have family support for once.* _

_ (4:28p) *Although she did drink like five glasses of wine at the reception and tell me about her first husband’s erectile dysfunction problem.* _

_ (4:29p) -@ this point mb just take wut u can get- _

_ (4:30p) *Lol, true that.* _

_ (4:30p) *She’s not perfect, but who is, right?* _

_ (4:30p) *I’m lucky to have her in my life.* _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Yikes, amirite?? not every chapter is gonna be a horrific death, promise. (some chapters are tho, sorry.) also there will be more caryl in the next chapter, and not just the kiddos, whom i would die for, btw. i'm weirdly attached to my made up babies. 
> 
> anyway, this hurt! should i do a thing like on talking dead where they honor those we lost each episode? 
> 
> in today's losses we say farewell to:  
-bob  
-cat (sorry a lot for that one)  
-barb, aka carol's aunt, which is how i still refer to her in my brain
> 
> moving on
> 
> update schedule! my work hours are officially changed, meaning my writing time has increased. for now i'm gonna say one chapter a week, around this time, so like, somewhere between sunday and monday night. i'll see how much i'm getting done, and maybe we'll try twice a week again, but i'll let you know that ahead of time.
> 
> thanks for reading! sorry i killed people and also a cat! love you!
> 
> -diz


	3. Roll Initiative

Glenn and Maggie are already waiting at Merle’s when they pull up for the scheduled rendezvous. The two of them are sitting on the stoop, Glenn holding Maggie in his arms. They’re both pale and seem exhausted, but they aren’t crying, which Daryl takes as a good sign.

“What’s the word on your parents, Glenn?” Daryl asks the moment he hops out of the van. He goes to the back door and Henry jumps down and waits expectantly for Josie to climb out as well. Carol gets Jesse and Stew out on the other side.

“We don’t know,” Glenn says, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” Daryl asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking over to them.

“They weren’t there,” Glenn says. “They left a note for me and my sisters in case we came by looking for them…” He grimaces, trailing off, and Maggie squeezes his forearm.

“It said they were going to Atlanta to the refugee shelter,” she finishes for him in an undertone. Daryl chews his lower lip and nods in understanding.

“We still don’t know for sure what’s goin’ on in the city,” he reminds his friend.

“Yeah,” Glenn says flatly. He clears his throat and asks, “How’s Barb?” Daryl ducks his head and Maggie makes a small noise, and Glenn mutters, “Fuck.”

“Carol, I’m so sorry,” Maggie says when Carol comes over and joins them. Carol hugs herself and shrugs. Daryl tries reaching over to her, but she shakes her head and steps away with a muted, “Not right now.”

“What happened?” Glenn asks, glancing over to where the kids are talking with Merle, making sure they’re out of earshot. Daryl fiddles with his keys, frowning at the ground.

“She was bit,” Carol says matter-of-factly. “Daryl and Merle handled it.”

“Handled it?” Glenn asks, and Daryl hazards a glance up to meet his eye. Glenn groans, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he says again. “ _ Fuck me. _ ”

That about sums it up, Daryl thinks, acutely aware of the distance between him and his wife. She’s never been one for outward expressions of grief, but, he wonders then, what if it’s him? What if she can’t look at him the same because of what he’s done—what he’s “taken care of.”

Before he can dwell, a car pulls up the drive. Rick and Michonne park behind Daryl and Carol’s van, and when the engine turns off only Rick gets out, Michonne opting to stay in, staring out her passenger side window. Carol takes one look at Rick’s face and goes to her friend.

“No?” Daryl mutters to Rick in regards to Michonne’s mother. Rick shakes his head slowly. Daryl claps a hand on his shoulder. “Us too,” he says. “With Carol’s aunt. We had to...Did you?” 

Rick swallows hard, averting his gaze, and that’s enough of an answer for Daryl. 

“Why is this happening?” Glenn asks. The question might not have been rhetorical, but no one offers any answers regardless, because no one has any.

“We need to get to your dad’s farm, Maggie,” Rick says, slipping into an authoritative tone that makes Daryl go from sluggish to activated. He doesn’t know how to sit around and wallow—he’s a man of action and he’s ready to act as soon as he’s given the command.

“We should get whatever supplies we can; whatever Merle has lying around,” Daryl says.

“We’ll caravan out like we did from Atlanta,” Glenn agrees.

“Let’s get on it,” Rick says. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can figure out a long-term game plan. We can’t do that here. We already know it’s not safe.”

Daryl’s fingers ache with the memory of what it feels like to shove a knife through a human skull.

“Lemme go talk with Carol for a sec?” he asks. His friends nod and he heads over to Rick’s car where Carol is crouched down beside the open passenger side door where Michonne still sits inside.

“Hey,” Daryl says to Carol softly. “C’mere a minute?” 

Carol hesitates, before placing a reassuring hand on Michonne’s knee with a muttered promise of returning soon. She gets to her feet, and Daryl gives Michonne a single head nod that he hopes she interprets as his way of giving condolences. He and Carol walk a ways off from the others. Carol crosses up her arms, closing herself off. She isn’t crying anymore.

“How’s she doin’?” Daryl asks. Carol shrugs.

“Her mother just died,” she says. “Died horribly, and she has no time to mourn. She’s trying to keep it together like the rest of us.” 

“We’re gonna load up on supplies and then head out to the farm here soon.”

“Alright.”

“Kids are hanging in there so far. They’ll bounce back from what they’ve seen.”

“From what they’ve seen so far,” Carol says, eyes trained on the ground. Daryl reaches out and lifts her chin with a single finger. 

“Hey,” he says gently. “How are  _ you _ doin’?”

“Fine,” she says predictably, moving away from his touch. He sighs. 

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Shut down. We ain’t been down that road in years, let’s not go back now.”

“Sorry if I’m not coping the way I’m supposed to. Should I throw myself to the ground and start weeping?” Carol asks. Daryl stands his ground and after a moment Carol huffs, rubbing her face with both hands before muttering, “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch.”

“Ain’t a bitch,” Daryl says. “But I need to know where you’re at if we’re gonna get through this.”

“I’m not shoving it down because I’m hiding from it,” she says, eyes bright as she drops her arms. “I just can’t handle letting myself feel the shock of everything and keep it together at the same time. I can’t be a burden like that, and I have to put being a mother first. I  _ have _ to. You know that. You’re doing the same thing.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Daryl mutters, considering how quick he is to dive into action if it’ll distract him. “Just...Don’t go to the place I can’t reach you. Things are bad, and getting worse, and I need you as my partner on this, alright?” He ducks his head, kicking at the dirt, and adds, “I get it if there’s tension here, okay? With what I did? I understand, but we gotta try and have each other’s backs, for the kids if for nothin’ else.”

“Oh Daryl,” Carol says, and she does reach out to him then, taking both his hands in hers. “I don’t blame you for any of that, okay? You and Merle did what you had to. I know that. The kids know that. And the only thing in the world I want right now is to crawl into our bed and have you hold me and tell me it’s all gonna be alright, but I can’t give into that and stay strong at the same time.”

“Can we compromise?” Daryl asks, lacing their fingers together. “‘Cause I got a hard time stayin’ strong when you’re pullin’ away.”

Carol takes a step into his space, drops his hands, and instead cups his face. She leans up and gives him a long kiss, brushing her thumbs along his jawline. 

“We’ll compromise,” she agrees.

“We’re better as a team,” Daryl says, and Carol gives him a small but sweet smile.

“Damn straight.” She kisses him again. Against his mouth she whispers, “We’re in this together. Ride or die.” 

Daryl snorts.

“Ride or die, baby,” he agrees. 

*

They reach the farm by mid-afternoon. The sun is out and the air is crisp but not cold, and it’s in total contrast from the mood they’re all in. The day doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that the world appears to be ending.

There’s instant relief when they make the turn down the long dirt drive leading to the house when they see Maggiie’s father out by the pasture tending to one of the horses, very much alive.

“Whoa, are those horses?” Jesse asks, pressing his grubby little kid fingers up against the glass of his window, awed. Daryl’s flush of relief is quickly followed by a second one at the sound of his son’s excitement. The kid witnessed a nightmare, yet he’s still bright-eyed over a horse, and Daryl knows then that what he said to Carol earlier is true: Their children will bounce back from this.

“Sure are, bud,” he says, pulling up behind Merle’s bike and Glenn and Maggie’s car, Rick coming to a stop behind them.

“Can I say hi to them?” Jesse asks.

“We’ll see,” Carol says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Do you see the horses, Joey?” Jesse asks his sister.

“Yeah,” Josie mutters flatly. Daryl glances at her in the rearview mirror and finds her not paying the horses any attention. Instead, she’s scratching Henry’s ear idly with a downtrodden expression.

Maybe the bouncing back will take more time than he’d like, Daryl thinks, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

They get out of the van, Henry jumping out and immediately breaking into zoomies, elated at finally having the space to run around after being stuck in cramped quarters for the better part of the last twenty four hours.

Maggie is running too, sprinting towards her father the second she steps out of the car. Hershel meets her halfway, and they collide in a crushing embrace. Beside Daryl, Carol gives a bittersweet smile, and behind them, Michonne hugs herself and frowns down to the gravel at her feet. 

“We’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” Hershel is saying, still holding Maggie in a bear hug. “We’ve been hearing terrible rumors—the Reed’s on the next farm over, they said their son called from Michigan and told them a bunch of horror stories. They said we should head up to Atlanta with them, but we couldn’t just up and leave the farm, and—”

“Atlanta’s not safe, daddy,” Maggie says, pulling away and wiping tears off her face. “Town either. I dunno if anywhere is.”

“Safe from what, exactly?” Hershel asks. The two of them head back to the group. “All of you fled the city? Surely all of the stories can’t be true…”

“They’re true, sir,” Glenn says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tensing his shoulders to his neck, letting them drop down with a big exhale. “We’ve seen it firsthand. We’ve seen…” He can’t bring himself to explain it.

“There’s monsters outside,” Jesse says then, and everyone turns to look at him. “My name is Jesse Dixon, by the way. I’m a twin. This is my sister, Josie, but I call her Joey. Daddy calls her Jojo and me JJ. Are you Auntie Maggie’s daddy?”

“I am,” Hershel says politely, taken aback by Jesse’s bombardment of information and introductions. “You probably know my other daughter as well, although you might not remember her. I believe she babysat you a time or two a long time ago. You’ve grown since then.”

“Is Beth here?” Maggie asks, wringing her hands together.

“She’s inside. She and Jimmy were visiting when the news broadcast went out.”

“Thank God,” Maggie whispers with a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Maggie’s daddy, have you seen the monsters too?” Jesse asks.

“He said he didn’t know there is monsters at all, weren’t you listening?” Josie says, speaking softly and directed only at her brother, not a fan of talking to strangers.

“Should we tell him about Auntie Barb and Auntie Michonne’s mommy?” Jesse asks his sister.

“That’s something for the grown ups to talk about, not kids,” Carol says, placing a hand on either twin’s shoulder.

“But we saw it, too,” Josie objects haughtily, her reservations about strangers temporarily forgotten in lieu of being dismissed. “Why do only the grown ups get to talk? It isn’t a secret no more.” 

“Jojo,” Daryl says softly, and she rounds on him.

“No,” she says. “You killed Auntie Barb. The grown ups don’t need to say so, me and Jesse already know.” 

Daryl recoils, taking an involuntary step away from his kids, flushing with shame at his actions being described so bluntly.  _ Killed. _ That’s a word and a half.

“ _ Josie, _ ” Carol says sharply.

“I’m not wrong,” Josie says. “Am I wrong, daddy?”

No bullshit, right?

“You ain’t wrong,” Daryl says quietly. He can feel Hershel’s eyes boring into him, but he can’t look up and explain. All of his interactions with Maggie’s father have been emergency vet trips whenever Henry did something stupid, and now what? He’s supposed to just stand on this man’s property and explain how he drove a knife into his aunt-in-law’s brain?

“It’s more complicated than that,” Carol says.

“Is it?” Rick asks, and Daryl does look at him. His friend’s expression is gaunt; he looks like how Daryl feels—irrevocably guilty. Maybe what they did was out of protection, but Barb was Carol’s only living mother figure, and Rick literally took out Michonne’s mom in front of her, and yesterday they were all sitting around celebrating birthdays and bullshing, and it finally catches up with Daryl, here on this dirt drive, how impossible it all is to grapple with. 

“‘Cuse me,” he mutters, head bowed as he stalks off from the group, going out towards the bean field where all the crop has been harvested for the year. He hears Carol call after him, Glenn and Jesse too, but he needs a moment, or maybe ten, to get his shit together.

He sits in the grass, bits of dirt and straw and dry leaves sticking to his jeans. He puts his head between his legs and takes deep breaths, trying to stem his budding panic attack.

His daughter’s voice echoes in his mind, and that single sentence cuts deeper than the act itself. Whether they bounce back or not, what his children have seen is irreversible. What his wife has seen is irreversible. The stain on his conscience is permanent, and whether that was his only kill, or the start of some horrible new normal, he knows now with conviction that he will always remember every detail of what happened in that hallway of a home he used to feel comfortable and safe in. 

You never forget your first.

“Daddy?” 

Daryl lifts up his head and finds Jesse standing off to the side a ways from him, looking tentative. His freckles are showing off in the sun, and his hair, which is in need of a cut, is light and fluffy, the tips blowing in the wind like wheat stalks.

“Hey, baby,” Daryl mutters, unfurling himself and leaning back on his hands. He clears his throat and tries to slow the rapid thrumming of his pulse, trying to muster some semblance of control for his son’s sake. “You shouldn’t be wanderin’ off. Remember what we told you and Jojo about staying close?”

“I can still see everybody from here,” Jesse reasons. “‘Sides, I asked momma if I could come talk to you ‘cause you seemed sad. Are you sad, daddy?”

“I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, sweetheart, that’s all. I’ll be alright.”

“When I’m sad I feel better when you and mommy give me hugs, or when I eat a ice cream cone. Do you want a hug? Sorry, I don’t have any ice cream. Maggie’s daddy might, though. Maybe chocolate. Jojo would like that.”

“Hell yeah I want a hug,” Daryl says, opening his arms to Jesse, who steps into them and wraps his tiny arms around his father’s torso the best he can. Daryl buries his face in Jesse’s floofy hair and has to bite back tears. He kisses his son on the temple for a long moment and sits back, holding him lightly by the upper arms and regarding him. “How you doin’ with everything, JJ?”

“Hmm,” Jesse says, twisting his mouth thoughtfully. “I don’t really like what’s going on I don’t think, and I think I wanna go home, but Joey says we can’t go home ‘cause bad things are happening, and it’s not safe. She telled me that Auntie Barb got bitted and that’s why you had to kill her. Is that true?”

Daryl grimaces but keeps his composure. 

“Yeah. I didn’t want to hurt your Aunt, though. Do you know that? I’d never hurt no one, okay?”

“I know that, daddy,” Jesse says. “‘Member when you said that your daddy was mean so you wanted to be nice ‘cause you didn’t wanna act bad like him? Nice people don’t hurt people and you’re nice so you wouldn’t do that to Auntie unless it was the right thing to do.”

Does he remember telling his kids that? Vividly. Grandparents’ Day at preschool last year had been met with questions he hadn’t been prepared to answer yet, but what he wouldn’t give now to have such a simple conundrum. Telling his children about his abusive father seems like nothing compared to explaining why he had to kill their aunt.

“Maybe it was the right thing to do, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I liked doin’ it. I loved your Auntie very much. I know you did, too.”

Jesse furrows his brow and frowns.

“I wish she didn’t have to turn into a monster,” he says, eyes welling up as he does. 

“Me too, bud,” Daryl whispers, wiping tears off Jesse’s face with his thumbs.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are me and Joey gonna turn into monsters? Are you gonna have to kill us too?”

“Absolutely not,” Daryl says, an icy chill going through him at the thought. “Me and momma are gonna protect you.”

“What if something bites us like they did to Auntie? Or to Michonne’s mommy?”

“Nothing is gonna hurt you, Jesse, you hear me? As long as you and your sister do exactly as we say we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Are you and momma gonna be safe, too?”

“We’re damn sure gonna try. But listen to me, okay? If anything happens to your mother and me, I want you to remember that you got a whole lotta people who will take real good care of you. If anything happens, you go to Uncle Merle, or Rick, or Glenn, or any of ‘em, and they’ll watch over you. I trust ‘em, and so can you.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, though,” Jesse says, his lower lip pouting out as a couple more tears slide down his chubby cheeks.

“I ain’t plannin’ on anythin’ happening, but it’s good to be prepared. Even if things weren’t crazy right now, it’s important for y’all to know that y’all are always gonna be cared for and loved. And I do love you, JJ, okay? You and your sister, you got everything I got to give, no matter what. You hear that?”

“I hear that,” Jesse whispers. “I love you too, daddy.” He leans against Daryl, and Daryl cups the back of his head. “I’m gonna pretend we’re on an adventure,” Jesse says then.

“Yeah? What kind of adventure?”

“One where there are monsters and we are superheroes that gotta save the world like in the movies.”

“I like that. Do we have a superhero team name? Like the Avengers, or the Justice League, or somethin’?” 

“I think maybe we’ll just be the Dixons, ‘cause Dixons are the best.”

“Pfft, you’re pro’ly the first one to ever say that,” Daryl mutters, running his fingers through Jesse’s hair. “You ain’t wrong, though, we’re pretty cool.”

“Glenn and Rick can be your sidekicks, and Maggie and Michonne will be momma’s.”

“They’ll love that, I’m sure.”

“Uncle Merle will be me and Joey’s sidekick, and Henry and Stew will be our super pets.”

“This gets better and better, kid,” Daryl says, smiling softly.

“And it’s okay if some sad things happen, ‘cause sad things happen in adventures, ‘cause that’s how stories go, but when it’s the ending we will beat all the monsters.”

“We will, huh?”

“‘Course we will, daddy,” Jesse says, pulling back to look at Daryl with a bemused expression, as though it’s silly to ask such a question. “We’re the good guys, and the good guys always win.”

*

The sun setting over the farm is beautiful, the expanse of land silhouetted by orange, pink, and purple hues. Daryl sits on the front porch watching it, wishing for the first time in years that he had a cigarette. Behind him the screen door to the house creaks open and then clatters shut, and suddenly Carol is settling in beside him, her feet resting on the top stair as she wraps her arms around her knees.

“Hey,” Daryl says.

“Hey,” she says. “Checked on the kids—they’re dead to the world.”

“Really? This early?”

“Mhm. If I knew all it took to get them to go to sleep on time was to emotionally traumatize them I woulda started a plague years ago,” Carols says, smirking at Daryl’s snort. She sighs heavily. “Sitting out here all melancholy really makes me want a cigarette.”

“Pfft, I was thinkin’ the exact same thing.”

“Great minds crave the negative coping mechanisms of their youth alike, I guess.” 

“Mm.” Daryl picks at a hangnail. “How’re they all doin’?” He’s been avoiding everyone as much as possible.

“I dunno. Shitty? Scared? At a loss for what to do? All of the above, I suppose. I heard Michonne crying in the bathroom when I was in with the twins. Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy were all huddled up on the rug by the fireplace, but were barely saying anything. Rick and Hershel were talking plans for tomorrow. Haven’t seen Merle.”

“He’s been walkin’ the perimeter of the farm like a goddamn prison guard for the past hour or two,” Daryl says. “He heard Hershel’s request for no guns inside or near the house, said fuck that, and immediately took a shotgun and started keepin’ watch. He was using a knife yesterday. I think he took the gun in part just to be a contrary dick.”

“Yeah, that sounds on brand. I can’t imagine he’d be too comfortable cramped inside with the Greene’s anyhow. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel safer knowing he’s out there keeping an eye on things.”

“Me too, though I don’t think he slept last night. He’s gonna run himself down to fumes if he ain’t careful.”

“Speaking of fumes, I heard Rick and Hershelf talking about maybe going into town tomorrow to scope things out and see if there are any stores open at all. We’re gonna need gas, at the very least. Watching the gas gauge get closer and closer to E feels a lot like being trapped. Like we’re a bunch of dumb teenagers in a horror movie who can’t get the car to start and the villian is about to chase us through the woods. I don’t like the idea of being stuck.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Daryl says. “We ain’t at fucked levels yet.”

“I know, but if everyone else is thinking like we are then how much longer are the resources gonna last?”

“Don’t think about it right now,” Daryl says, reaching over and rubbing her back. “Nothin’s gonna get solved tonight.”

“Yeah okay,” she sighs. There’s a beat of silence, and then she says, pointedly, “I got my period.”

Daryl frowns at her for a second, confused as to why she’d say this with so much purpose. Then it hits him, and he blows out a big breath of air, leaning his head back and clamping his eyes shut, a wave of conflicting feelings washing over him.

“Jesus,” he murmurs. “I didn’t even think—I’m sorry, it didn’t even cross my mind. That was selfish as fuck of me.”

“No it wasn’t. I didn’t think about it either until I went to the bathroom and saw that I wasn’t.”

Daryl opens his eyes, watching her face closely, his hand falling down to the small of her back.

“How you feelin’ about it?” he asks softly. Carol twists her mouth and shrugs.

“Dunno, to be honest. With all this bullshit going on it’s probably a blessing in disguise, but, you know, we wanted this so bad, and now we’re probably gonna have to put it on hold, like, indefinitely.”

“Hey,” Daryl says, pulling her to him and letting her curl up into his embrace. “We ain’t got a clue on how long things are gonna be like this. Maybe we’ll get back to some sort of normal soon. None of this means we can’t try again at some point, you know? And for now, you’re pro’ly right, we lucked out. It’s okay to be disappointed, though.”

“It’s weird that we’ve been at it for months now when last time I opened my legs for like two seconds and we ended up making two whole-ass human beings.”

“Pfft. I dunno, sweetheart, maybe the Universe is lookin’ out for us. Or, sorry, the Duolingo Owl.”

“Don’t mention Duolingo,” Carol says, sticking out her lower lip. “RIP to my streak.”

“Oh yeah, sorry for your loss,” Daryl says flatly, making Carol laugh, which is such a nice sound after such a terrible day. The moment fades. Carol plays with Daryl’s hand.

“I was thinking,” she says. “I’d feel a lot better if the kids were able to defend themselves.”

“We ain’t givin’ our six year olds guns,” Daryl says immediately with a frown. Carol shakes her head.

“No, they’re not ready for that, but what about knives? Nothing super intensive, just showing them how to hold one properly, and how to stand to protect themselves in case...in case something comes after them.”

Daryl chews on his lower lip.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“Me either. But you saw how fast Auntie came at us, and how it took all of Merle’s strength to hold her back. Tell me it wouldn’t give you some peace of mind to know they aren’t totally helpless.”

Daryl bounces his leg up and down, sighing.

“I guess Rick and I could show ‘em a few things in the mornin’,” he says reluctantly. “Glenn might benefit, too, he ain’t ever had to do anythin’ like this before neither. Dude ain’t even gone fishin’. Dunno how I’m gonna phrase it to the kids to make them think I’m teachin’ ‘em anything other than how to kill someone, though. That’s exactly where their minds are gonna go, you know that, right?”

“Maybe you should let them go there,” Carol says. “That  _ is _ why you’re teaching them. How to be safe in case they need to kill someone.” 

“Christ. Can you imagine anythin’ worse than our kindergarten-aged babies havin’ to kill another human being, Carol?” 

“Yes,” Carol says seriously. “Watching our kindergarten-aged babies die because they didn’t know how.” 

*

_ “Oh my god, sometimes I wanna strangle those little demons,” Carol says, falling face first into bed, still in her day clothes. Daryl crawls in next to her, just as exhausted, and scoops her into his arms until he’s wrapped around her as the big spoon. _

_ “You’d think us puttin’ ‘em to bed was us torturin’ ‘em, tryna get ‘em to tell secrets jeopardizing national security, for how much they fight it.”  _

_ “I’m pretty sure we’re the ones being tortured,” Carol says, voice muffled with her face buried in her pillow. _

_ “They shoulda asked us to talk, then. I woulda told ‘em everything. ‘I’ll spy on the government, I’ll spy on anyone you want, just go the fuck to sleep.’” _

_ “‘Don’t ask me anymore questions about outer space. I don’t know why Ursa Major is called the Great Bear when it doesn’t look like a bear. Just ask me to out everyone who’s ever committed treason against our political leaders. I don’t care if they get capital punishment, just shut up for eight hours. Hell, I’ll settle for six, or even four if I’m desperate. Which I am.’” _

_ “Please, I’d much rather take on Jojo spitfire question duty if it means I don’t gotta try and read a book to JJ. ‘No daddy, that is not what happens.’ ‘But that’s what the words say, baby.’ ‘Mm, but the words are boring. Tell it better, daddy, please.’ Like, I don’t know how to make up stories. It’s bedtime, not fuckin’ creative writing class, kid, give me a break.” _

_ Carol giggles, tired and a bit hysterical. _

_ “Our kids are the worst,” she says.  _

_ “Absolutely terrible.”  _

_ “...I love them.” _

_ “So much.” _

_ “What the hell is wrong with us?” _

_ “Stockholm Syndrome?” _

_ “Probably.” _

_ Daryl smiles, hugging Carol close to him. Her breathing evens out, and she’s not quite sleeping, but she’s resting. He kisses the base of her neck and whispers, _

_ “Hey?” _

_ “Hm?” she mumbles. _

_ “I kinda want another one.” _

_ “Another what?” _

_ “You know...another lil’ demon.” _

_ That wakes her up. He feels her breath hitch, and then she’s shuffling around in the bed in order to face him, an eyebrow raised. _

_ “Do what now?” she asks. _

_ “I dunno,” Daryl says with a side shrug, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “I been thinkin’ about it for a while now. Business is finally gettin’ stable, we even got a savings for once. I could easily drop down to part-time at the shop to help stay at home with the kids if you need me to, so we wouldn’t need to pay for a babysitter no more, and you wouldn’t hafta give up nothin’. It’s just...it could work, you know?” _

_ Carol blinks at him. _

_ “You want a baby?” she asks. Daryl chews on his lower lip. _

_ “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “What do you think about it?”  _

_ “Hell, I don’t know, you kinda sprung that one on me,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I’ve been so busy with getting the bakery up and running that I haven’t stopped to think about much else, but like...I’ve considered it from time to time. I never thought about it on any sort of schedule, though.” _

_ “Do you want another kid? Or, kids, I guess, just in case we get doubled up on again. Gotta take that into consideration.” _

_ “Carol frowns thoughtfully, pinching her lip between her forefinger and thumb. Eventually, she drops her hand and looks him in the eye. _

_ “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, I’ve pictured us with a bigger family for a long time now, and I knew you’d always be down for it. You’ve always said so. It just never felt like the right time.” _

_ “It wasn’t the right time the first time and it worked out pretty good for us,” Daryl reminds her. _

_ “Don’t you think we should wait until we’re a little more stable?” _

_ “I mean, we could, but part o’ me is like, there’ll always be a reason to wait, but we done it before with way less than we got now, with twins no less. We could put it off, but then I see us puttin’ it off and off and off, and it’s like...why wait?”  _

_ “I’d be all pregnant and stuff again.” _

_ “Mhm. That’d be kinda shitty, ‘cause I know you don’t like it much, but if it was just one I bet it’d be a lot easier to handle. And if it’s just one you wouldn’t even hafta go to a hospital. The docs would let you go to one of them birth centers or somethin’.” _

_ “What if I get postpartum depression again?” _

_ “It’s possible. We know the signs, though, and we know how to handle it, and Glenn would definitely help hold down the fort at the bakery, and you was gonna hire another baker anyways. If you had to miss some work to take care of yourself it wouldn’t screw us.” _

_ “How do you think the twins would handle it?” _

_ “Jojo might need a minute to get used to the idea, but we both know JJ would go apeshit about bein’ a big brother, and if he’s happy then he’ll make Jojo come around pretty quick. My guess is they’d be real protective. They got each other, you know? I think that’d help with jealousy, ‘cause even if we was busy takin’ care of a new lil’ one they’d still be our lil’ disco twins.”  _

_ Carol clicks her tongue a few times. _

_ “Another baby means another kid to get to sleep,” she reminds him. _

_ “Eh, we’re already used to the torture, why not pile it on?”  _

_ Carol laughs and then shrugs.  _

_ “Fuck it,” she says. “I’m in.”  _

_ “Wait, seriously?” _

_ “Yeah. I don’t have any warning bells going off in my head, and I figure that if you’re at the point where you’re asking me directly then that means you’ve already done all your overthinking, and I trust you to have gone through all the logistics about six thousand times, so like, fuck it. Let’s have a baby. Why not?”  _

_ A wide grin spreads across Daryl’s face. _

_ “Okay,” he says. “Dixon kid number three.” _

_ “God help us,” Carol laughs, making a soft ‘oof!’ sound when Daryl leans forward to kiss her. She starts to pull away, but Daryl coaxes her mouth open and deepens the kiss. Soon he’s pushing her back against the bed and is hovering above her. She breaks the contact long enough to giggle and say, “You know I’ll need to get my birth control removed before we can make any babies, right? If that’s your aim here.” _

_ “It’s practice, then,” Daryl mutters, kissing her again until they’re both rolling around the sheets, putting their all into their studies, preparing for the test ahead. _

*

There are three hay bales set up side-by-side, and Daryl pointedly avoids thinking about what they’re supposed to be representing as he hands a knife to each of his children. Glenn is there too, holding his own weapon, after only minimal complaining about being in a training group where his companions are twenty years younger than him, and also in kindergarten. 

“Okay, me and Rick are gonna show you three a couple things to make it easier to protect yourselves,” Daryl says.

“Are you showing us how to do this in case have to kill someone like you and Rick did, daddy?” Josie asks.

_ Why not just jab the actual knife in me, kiddo, _ Daryl thinks, cringing. Still, he promised, no bullshit.

“It’s so if anyone or anything is tryna hurt you, you’ll be able to fight back however you need to,” Daryl says evasively. Josie raises an eyebrow but says nothing else.

“See these hay bales over there?” Rick asks authoritatively, his police officer voice on. “That’s what we’re gonna practice on to start, but first we gotta show you how to hold the knives. Watch closely, alright?”

Rick wraps his whole fist around the handle of his knife, the blade pointing up towards the sky, in line with his thumb, and Daryl does the same on his own.

“This is a forward grip,” Daryl says. “It’s good if you need to stab out in front of you. Lemme see y’all do it.”

Jesse, Josie, and Glenn all fumble around with their knives, Rick and Daryl checking their work.

“Put your thumb closer to here, baby,” Daryl tells Josie, adjusting her hand. She scowls a little at herself for getting it wrong, and Daryl suppresses a smile, knowing the little perfectionist would not appreciate it in the least.

“‘Kay, so now we’re gonna do the reverse,” Daryl says, and he and Rick turn their knives blade-side down. 

“The forward grip lets you strike quicker, but this one is stronger. You feel how you got a lil’ more control? It’s good if your opponent is below you.”

“But we are short, though,” Jesse says, finagling his knife in his tiny hand. “Everyone is taller than us except babies.”

“If they was on the ground they’d be below us,” Josie says to her brother, who hums in agreement.

“I guess that’s true.”

“Good,” Rick says, checking on them. “Daryl, you wanna show them how to position themselves?” 

“‘Kay,” Daryl says. “You ain’t gonna want to expose your body to whatever you’re fighting. Hold your knife up in front of you like this.” He holds his knife perpendicular to his chest, his arm out in front. 

“Stay on the balls of your feet, too,” Rick adds. “Which one of you can tell me what the balls of your feet are?” Glenn raises his hand, making his friends snort. “Yes, Mr. Rhee?” Rick says with a fond eye roll.

“It’s the part of your foot between your toes and your arch,” Glenn says wisely. 

“Very good, gold star for you,” Rick says, making the twins giggle. Glenn looks over at them and winks.

“Like tippy-toes?” Jesse asks, pushing himself up onto his toes and wobbling, a bit off balance.

“Kinda. Put your foot flat and then try putting pressure on the part of your foot that Glenn just told y’all about,” Daryl says. “It should make it easier for you to move around.” 

“I think I got it,” Josie says, staring at her feet with a comically serious expression on her face.

“Do you feel what I mean? Try moving side-to-side,” Daryl says. Josie does so fluidly, and he nods his approval. “Good. If you can move fast then you can get out of the way if something’s comin’ after you.”

“Like the monsters?” Jesse asks. Daryl sighs internally.

“Like them, yeah,” he says. He clears his throat and quickly adds, “Now, wanna try stabbin’ some hay?” Hay. That’s all.  _ Not _ a person.

“Okay,” Josie says, just as Glenn says, “Let’s go for it,” but Jesse talks over both of them, saying,

“Wait, we should roll initiative.” 

There’s a pause.

“What did you just say?” Daryl asks, laughing a little.

“We should roll initiative,” Jesse repeats. “Like in D&D. Then we’ll know who goes first in the fight against the big hairy monsters over there.” He points at the hay bales.

“That’s not monsters, that’s hay,” Josie says.

“Nuh-uh, it’s big hairy slime monsters from outer space. The other aliens were running away from them and they caught up and now we gotta fight them. They’re even badder than the other ones, it’s gonna be a real hard battle.”

Daryl, Rick, and Glenn immediately crack up laughing, while Josie huffs a sigh.

“Daddy, tell Jesse it is just hay so we can practice. We should be serious. Mrs. Meyer at school says that when something is important you should be serious.” 

“It is important and y’all do need to take this seriously,” Daryl agrees, still grinning. “But if JJ wants us to fight aliens, then I’m fine with it, so long as you still learn somethin’ by the end of it.”

Josie puts a hand on her hip.

“We don’t even got any dice,” she says.

“Mmm, that might not be true,” Glenn says tentatively. They all watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and takes out a pearl colored twenty-sided die. Daryl and Rick laugh even harder.

“ _ Why? _ ” Rick asks as Daryl puts a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath, even as waves of laughter still flow through him. 

“It’s my lucky D20. I keep it on me. Kinda like a rabbit’s foot, you know?”

Cue another burst of laughter.

“Does that mean we can roll initiative?” Jesse asks excitedly. Daryl is practically in tears.

“Hell yeah, baby,” he says.

“Oh my god,” Josie says, making Daryl fall into another fit. He waves for Glenn to roll, unable to say the words aloud. 

“Six,” he says, rolling the D20 onto a patch of dirt and squatting down to read it.

“Your lucky D20 kinda sucks, huh?” Rick says, taking the die when Glenn hands it over. He rolls it as well and announces, “Fifteen.”

“Twelve,” Daryl says on his turn, hiccuping. “JJ?”

Jesse rolls the die very carefully, and when he looks to see what he got, he says, “Hmm, I rolled a nine, but I get to add my dexterity modifier so I got a seventeen.”

“Hold up. How come  _ you  _ got to add a modifier?” Glenn asks in faux offense.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t think to,” Jesse says.

“You’re saying your dexterity modifier is  _ eight _ ? That sounds awfully cheater of you. And Rick’s a cop, he can get you for that, you know,” Glenn says. 

“You can read my character sheet,” Jesse says. He pretends to hand Glenn a piece of paper. All three of them bust up all over again, and Glenn holds the invisible paper out in front of him for the other two to see.

“Oh, yep, he’s right, it says plus eight on dexterity right there,” Glenn says, pointing at the empty air. 

“Guess you get to stay out of jail today,” Rick says. 

Daryl just tries to breathe.

Glenn hands the invisible paper back, and Jesse makes a show of folding it up and putting it in his back pocket, before holding out the die to Josie and saying, “It’s your turn, Jojo.” 

Josie stares at it with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” she says.

“You gotta play,” Jesse says.

“No.”

“Young lady, you roll initiative right now,” Daryl says, snorting halfway through his sentence. He thinks his stress may be coming out in the form of laughter, but damnit if it doesn’t feel better than tears. 

Josie gives a tremendous sigh as she takes the D20 from Jesse. She drops it on the ground carelessly.

“Twenty,” she says flatly, looking down at it.

“Nat’ twenty!” all four of the others say, Jesse and Glenn even throwing their arms up in the air. Josie, startled, stares at them like they’re the dumbest people in the world.

“That means you go first, Joey,” Jesse says, proudly patting his sister on the back.”

“Fine, but I’m practicing on hay, not fighting aliens,” she says haughtily.

“Daddy,” Jesse says in a stage whisper. “I think the aliens used their space magic to make Joey think there’s hay instead so that she can’t tell where to stab them.”

“Seems like it,” Daryl says with a solemn nod. “We’ll hafta make sure we take care of them monsters real good to break the spell.”

“Right.” 

“Man, this is the most intense campaign I’ve played since we had Jesse play Dungeon Master that one time. Remember? With the frogs?” 

“That was high stakes,” Rick agrees. “Think these are higher, though.”

“So stupid,” Daryl hears Josie mutter as she heads towards the bale closest to her, holding her knife in a forward grip just like they showed her. 

It’s dangerous outside, Daryl knows this, and his kids are gonna have to learn what that means for them, but he’s more than willing to let them fight hairy slime monsters, if it keeps the real monsters from running wild in their minds for now.

He’s got the distinct impression that the twins are going to be doing a lot of growing up in a very short period of time. Daryl plays pretend all morning long with his daydreamer son and his begrudging daughter, letting them be kids, for just a little bit longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was this kid at the shelter i work at, who to this day is my favorite kid i've ever worked with, and he would come into my office every night, and we would pretend to fight aliens together, and it was the actual best ever. i miss that dude, but jesse's got a little bit of that kid in him. 
> 
> anywho! sorry this is late. i still think that i'll be able to do monday nights, i'm just still adjusting to graveyard shift so bear with me. did you know that time is totally not real, and also i haven't seen the sun for more than a couple hours in like, a week?
> 
> tonight's in memoriam:   
-michonne's mom  
-the big hairy slime monsters  
-and the most important one i forgot to honor last chapter: carol's duolingo streak. ngl, if i lost my streak bc of the zombie apocalypse i would be Big Mad (871 days, bitch)
> 
> okay, i need to go chug some benadryl and force myself to go to sleep even though time isn't real. see u monday!
> 
> luv u,
> 
> -diz


	4. Supply Mission

_ (9:59p) ~tonight's level of boredom: infiltrated a nighttime game of capture the flag some frat house was playing on the quad, and stole their flag without any of them knowing and now i'm watching from a tree while they try and figure out where it went.~ _

_ (10:02p) -lmfao wtf?- _

_ (10:03p) ~i dunno, i'm avoiding writing a paper.~ _

_ (10:05p) >Rofl, so you're sabotaging some random people's game because you don't want to do your homework?< _

_ _

_ (10:07p) ~yes, what's your point?~ _

_ (10:08p) -feel like most ppl wud just binge netflix- _

_ (10:09p) ~this is more fun.~ _

_ (10:09p) ~"seriously, stop fucking around, which one of you took it?"~ _

_ (10:09p) ~none of them. i did. i took it.~ _

_ (10:11p) >How the hell did they not see you sneak onto their field?< _

_ (10:12p) ~it's a skill of mine. i'm fast on my feet and know how to get in and out.~ _

_ (10:13p) -...- _

_ (10:13p) >...< _

_ (10:14p) ~yeah, i could have worded that better, sorry. what i meant was i'm sneaky.~ _

_ (10:14p) ~remember when i used to break into football games at school so i wouldn't have to pay?~ _

_ (10:15p) -yeah the first time we met u had smuggled in like a whole gd pizza- _

_ (10:15p) -how tf did u do tht?- _

_ (10:16p) ~i'm not gonna reveal my ways.~ _

_ (10:16p) ~i've always been good at shit like that, though. i was a fucking master at hide and seek as a kid. people gave up looking for me after a while.~ _

_ (10:17p) >Maybe it was because they were just hoping you'd stay hidden.< _

_ (10:18p) ~fuck yourself, grimes.~ _

_ (10:19p) >Maybe you should major in sleight of hand magic.< _

_ (10:20p) -we cud get u a top hat n a lil bunny friend- _

_ (10:21p) ~do you really wanna antagonize someone who could rob your entire house before you even realized anything was wrong?~ _

_ (10:22p) >Is this you admitting to us that you're planning on a life of crime? Because I should remind you I'm training to be a cop.< _

_ (10:23p) -yeah n i got kids i cant associate w/ criminals soz- _

_ (10:24p) ~i guess i'll settle for harassing frat boys then.~ _

_ (10:25p) -they still lookin 4 their flag?- _

_ (10:26p) ~nah they got a new one.~ _

_ (10:26p) ~i'm gonna...steal the other team's now.~ _

_ (10:27p) >Quit while you're ahead, we're not in town to save you from getting your ass kicked.< _

_ (10:31p) ~ _ dumbass sent a photo _ ~ _

_ (10:31p) ~no need for saving when you can get in and out like me.~ _

_ (10:31p) ~and yes, i'm phrasing it that way, i don't even care.~ _

_ (10:32p) >Sorry to ever doubt you.< _

_ (10:33p) -plz dnt steal our stuff.- _

*

The power officially goes out around noon. The light switches are flicked off and on to no avail. Any miniscule amount of service anyone still had on their phones is gone, and all the electrical appliances stop working. The effect is an overwhelming feeling of isolation. After living in a world most of their lives where communication with others all the way across the globe was as simple as a press of a button, suddenly having no access to anyone, no immediate information at their fingertips, especially at a time when information would be invaluable to have, is lonely in a way Daryl can’t describe.

“Do you think it’ll come back?” Glenn asks. He, Rick, and Daryl are sat at the dining room table. Daryl is quietly observing Carol laying on the floor in the living room, keeping the kids company as they nap on a pillow nest, zapped from their weapons’ training that morning.

“Guess it depends on why it went out. Depends on what’s going on out there,” Daryl says, running a finger along the rim of his glass of sweet tea. The Greene’s water comes from wells on their property, thank God, but still the thought of losing access to resources makes a previous concern more pressing. “We’re gonna need to go into town.”

“I know,” Rick says, agreeing with a sigh. “We need to stock up, just in case. We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed, and the food in the fridge and freezer isn’t gonna last with the power out. We don’t know how long we’re gonna be here.”

“Do you think any stores are even open?” Glenn asks. Daryl taps a nail against the faux crystal of his glass.

“Rick,” he says tentatively. “We may hafta...take what we need, regardless of whether there’s someone there to take our money. Catch my drift? You gonna be okay with that?”

Rick groans, rubbing his temples.

“I picked a stupid career,” he mumbles. Then, more seriously, says, “We’ll do what we need to do.”

It’s cryptic, but Daryl gets the gist. They’ll buy supplies if supplies are being sold, but if it’s not, well…

“Here’s the next question, then—who’s all gonna go?” Glenn asks. “Me, obviously, but is anyone else coming?”

“Why ‘obviously’?” Rick asks.

“‘Cause he’s the best one of us at bein’ stealthy,” Daryl answers for Glenn. “He ain’t gonna get caught up in any traps or nothin’. Don’t want you goin’ alone, though. But the smaller the party the better. Doesn’t bring so much attention to you.”

“I’ll go,” Rick says. “I have gun training and self-defense.” 

Daryl draws a line down the condensation building on his glass as he worries his lower lip between his teeth.

“I’ll go, too,” he decides. Rick and Glenn appear hesitant.

“You’re comfortable leaving Carol and the twins?” Glenn asks, and Daryl shakes his head.

“Not even a lil’ bit, but outta everyone here, the only one with more survival skills than me is Merle, which is why he’s gotta stay here and keep watch. You can shoot, Rick, but you’re trained to fight people. I got more experience with wild animals than y’all, and these things are a helluva lot more like animals than people.”

“So we have someone to sneak in and out, someone to deal with people, and someone to deal with walkers,” Glenn says. “Team Groupchat teamwork makes the Team Groupchat dream work."

“Walkers?” Rick asks, as Daryl squints at Glenn.

“I dunno, we gotta call them something other than monsters, right? And every time I think of that one in the gas station I just think about that fucking creepy-ass walk,” Glenn says with a shrug.

_ Walkers. _

It’s not like he has a better name for them.

“Okay,” Daryl says. “Let’s make a plan then. What stores do we gotta hit? What things do we need? We don’t got a lot of daylight left, but if we leave soon we’ll make it. I don’t wanna put it off. Every second we wait is another second the town could be goin’ to shit.”

“We’ll start by making a list,” Rick says decisively. “And then we’ll go from there.”

*

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? With me goin’ with them?” Daryl asks Carol for the third time. Glenn and Rick are already heading to Hershel’s truck they’re borrowing.

“Yes,” Carol answers for the third time. She runs her hands up his arms. “Just please come back.”

“Plannin’ on it,” Daryl says, ducking down to steal a quick kiss before turning to address his kids, who are sitting together on the bottom step of the front porch, Josie throwing a ball for Henry, and Jesse clutching his salamander’s cage in one hand, and his teddy bear in the other. Daryl squats down so that he’s eye level with them. 

“Hey,” he says gently. “I’m headin’ out now, alright?” Neither twin appears thrilled.

“I thought you said it’s not safe to go out alone,” Jesse says, frowning, resting his chin on the top of Stew’s cage. 

“I ain’t alone. Uncle Rick and Uncle Glenn are gonna be with me.”

“But we won’t be with you,” Jesse says. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea for you to go without us. Maybe you should stay here with me and Joey and momma instead.” 

Daryl would love to, and his son’s earnest request guts him.

“It’s just for a lil’ while, kiddo. We’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

“Are there more monsters in town?” Josie asks, rolling Henry’s slobbery ball in her hands with her brows knitted together. 

“There might be,” Daryl says. “I don’t know for sure.”

“Are you gonna hafta kill more of them?”

Daryl blows out a big breath.

“Maybe,” he says after a beat. “Maybe.”

Josie peeks up at him through the strands of her hair falling out of her braid and over her face. 

“Don’t let them bite you, daddy,” she says. “It’s okay to kill them if it’s to make you safe.”

“I know it is, but I ain’t goin’ outta my way to kill nothin’. Me and your uncles are just goin’ to the store. Think of it like that—just a trip to the store.” 

“It’s different, though, huh, daddy?” Jesse asks. 

“A little. You know how sometimes you watch me and your uncles play video games and there are different levels, and each level gets a little harder. It’s kinda like that. Goin’ to the store, but it’s level two so it’s a lil’ harder.” 

“Okay,” Jesse says, appreciating the metaphor, but not totally placated. Daryl puts a hand on his son’s knee.

“An adventure, right? And we’re the good guys?” he asks him. Jesse smiles weakly.

“Yeah.”

“Atta boy. Listen, I gotta go, but I don’t want you to sit here and worry. You be good for your momma and if you ask nice I bet Aunt Maggie will let you see the horses.” He cups his son’s cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Jesse says. Daryl turns to Josie, who’s got her arms crossed tight and is holding her elbows, the dog and their game of fetch forgotten.

“Jojo?”

Josie wets her bottom lip with her tongue. 

“Just don’t get bitted,” she whispers, eyes trained on her lap. Daryl leans over and presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you, baby girl. I’m plannin’ on comin’ back, but you do like I said to JJ and mind your momma.”

“‘Kay,” Josie mumbles, refusing to look at him. 

Daryl sighs and straightens up. He leaves the kids, trying to not think about how crushed he is at their forlorn faces, until he’s crushed all over again by the brave face Carol’s forcing herself to wear as he tells her goodbye. He climbs into the truck with his friends, Rick at the wheel, and thinks, not for the first time, how loving somebody complicates everything more than you could ever imagine.

*

It’s a ghost town. As empty as it had been when they left the day before, it’s somehow more desolate now, as though everyone collectively decided to up and leave at once, and perhaps they had. Daryl half expects a tumbleweed to blow by as they make their way down the streets of home that feels familiar and foreign all at once.

Rick takes the turns to get to the strip mall, where the Dollar Store, local grocers, and adult video store, which still sells porn on VHS tape and has somehow never gone out of business, are all located. There are two other cars in the large parking lot, and a bike laying toppled over on its side, like its owner had run off in a hurry. The car closest to them is a red Honda Civic with the keys still in the ignition and the left blinker on, and the car furthest from them has both the driver’s and passenger’s side doors open with no one inside.

Not great.

“Maybe there was a really great sale at the porn shop and they all hurried in like a Black Friday stampede?” Glenn says, breaching the tense silence between them. Rick snorts and Daryl smiles in spite of his unease.

“Let’s hope they’re all in the back havin’ a joint movie night of  _ The Sex Files _ and are perfectly safe and won’t bother us none,” Daryl says, unbuckling his seatbelt. Automatically, his hand falls to his waist, where he feels his knife still pressed against his hip bone.

Without the hum of the car’s engine the silence grows even more strained. His son might play in his head too much, but Jesse isn’t far off the mark by likening this whole situation to some make believe game—something Daryl and his friends would play together on a Thursday night. But this isn’t a game, and it isn’t Thursday, so Daryl takes the lead in getting out of the car, Rick following instantly, and Glenn trailing a second or two behind.

The moment he’s out of the car, Daryl springs into hunter’s mode, tuning his senses to focus on everything around him like he would when tracking a potential kill. He uses all five of them at once.

He sees the money clip that fell out of someone’s back pocket, an empty plastic bag blowing across the lot, and someone’s abandoned groceries strewn about. He sees a path made of rusty splatters; tiny droplets of blood that dripped from an arm or leg. The trail leads off towards the alleyway around the side of the building. 

He feels the crunch of broken glass beneath his feet when he walks across the remnants of a shattered pickle jar.

He smells, and can practically taste, the distant coppery scent of bloody meat, although he’s not sure from where.

Most disturbing of all, he hears nothing. No screams or growls or voices of any kind—only the light rustling of the trees, and his and his friends’ own footsteps as they make their way to the Dollar Store.

“You got the list?” Rick asks, keeping his voice low. 

“Mhm,” says Glenn, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and scanning it a couple times before putting it back. “We can get most of this from the Dollar Store, and then we might see if we want to try and get any groceries. How are we on porn?” 

“I mean, the internet doesn’t work anymore, so…” Daryl says.

“Let’s save that for last,” Rick says pragmatically, and the other two give sage nods before cracking up, grateful that they’re still able to joke. 

Daryl peers through the glass door to the Dollar Store, trying to make out any sign of life—or lack thereof—but he doesn’t see anyone. There are no signs of customers or employees, which brings into question the potential conundrum he was hoping they wouldn’t have to address.

“I don’t think anyone is working,” he whispers.

“The lights are on. And look, the sign is flipped to open,” Glenn says, nodding at the red, ‘YES WE ARE OPEN’ sign. 

“Is the door locked?” asks Rick.

In response, Daryl takes hold of the handle and gives it a pull. It opens easily, and Daryl holds it like that, partially cracked, waiting for Rick to make the next call.

“Let’s check and see if there’s anyone inside that we can’t see from here,” Rick says, sounding more hopeful than Daryl suspects he is.

He opens the door the rest of the way and they make their way inside, stepping light and quiet, as though trying not to wake a sleeping bear. The control on the door that keeps it from slamming seems to make it take forever to close, and Daryl feels exposed every second it takes for it to finally click shut. The tips of his fingers brush the handle of his knife as he takes stock of his surroundings. That unnerving silence persists as they go further into the store.

“Nobody at the register,” Glenn says, nodding towards the empty check out counter.

“Do you think anyone would be in the back?” Rick asks. “If something happened to make people flee out in the parking lot then maybe they’re hiding out. Keeping safe.”

“It worth it to check?” Daryl asks. “Don’t feel great about goin’ around thrownin’ more doors open then we gotta. We ain’t sure what we’re gonna find behind ‘em if we do.”

“We need supplies,” Rick says.

“We do,” Daryl says back, meeting Rick’s eye with a steady look. Rick sighs, putting his hands on his hips and casting a frustrated glance around the store, his internal struggle wafting off him in waves. Everything they need is within reach, tempting them something awful.

“What if there  _ is _ someone hiding out and they need our help?” Glenn says then. Rick instantly loses some of the tension in his shoulders as he agrees enthusiastically, and Daryl thinks it may be more out of relief of postponing a tough decision than out of altruism.

“We should check,” Rick says. Daryl chews his bottom lip, conflicted. The sooner they’re out of this place the sooner he can get back to his wife and kids. But it’s not like he wants to leave some poor bastard stranded. His friends look at him expectantly, and he relents, grunting his consent. 

Daryl used to frequent this place so often when he and Carol were just starting out, five dollars to their name, that he could tell you where everything is as easily as he could describe his own house. Aisle three is where they’d get their cheap cleaning products, like Fabuloso mopping solution, or this off-brand Mr. Clean product called Dr. Cleanse. (Carol always joked that she was proud of him for going back to school for his PhD.) Two rows down is where they bought those inexpensive diapers, until they ended up giving Jesse a nasty rash and they decided to try cloth ones. They’re headed down the feminine hygiene aisle now, and Daryl has a visceral memory of being eighteen years old and staring at the pregnancy tests with a stone in his gut. 

Distance, time, and the current state of things give him this convoluted pang of nostalgia.

Familiar and foreign all at once.

The store isn’t big, but they move at a slow pace anyway, turning corners with caution. The gas station hadn’t been big either.

There are only two doors in the back—one labelled “employees only,” and one leading into a tiny bathroom Daryl remembers to be full of upsettingly indistinguishable stains, a perpetual foul odor, and a piece of graffiti carved into the wall with a key that read, “CALL IF YOU WANNA C BRYCE’S MASSIVE DONG,” followed by a phone number.

They try the employees only room first. Communicating solely through looks and gestures, Rick reaches up and rapts on the door once. They wait. Nothing moves on the other side. He knocks again, getting the same response. He tries the handle then, and is met with resistance.

“Locked,” he mutters unnecessarily. 

“If anyone’s in there they’ll have heard us,” Daryl says. “They can decide if they wanna come out.”

Glenn and Rick accept his argument, and the three of them move down the path to the bathroom, when Daryl notices something amiss. He throws an arm out to stop the others in their tracks and points. 

It’s not enough to be noticeable at first glance, but Daryl takes a step closer to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, a thin line of blood is seeping out from under the bottom crack of the door. Rick grimaces as Glenn lets out a quiet groan.

Rick makes to move towards the door, but Daryl takes him by the elbow, shaking his head.

“Me,” he says, so softly he’s basically mouthing it. At Rick’s skepticism, Daryl reminds him in a murmur, “It’s why I came with y’all.” 

He doesn’t wait for Rick to argue. He unsheathes his knife, gripping it in his hand the way he showed the twins that morning, and approaches the door. He kicks it a couple times, listening intently to hear if anything responds to the noise. From his experience so far, sound is what draws them in, but still he’s met with that worrisome nothing.

Swallowing, raising his armed hand up to his chest, blade pointed straight out, and standing on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce, he turns the handle down and pushes the door in slowly. 

Before he’s gotten it open wide enough for any of them to get through he hits something inside, and more blood trickles out into the space they’re standing in.

“Not promising,” Glenn whispers. Daryl huffs a sound that’s meant to say, “no fucking kidding,” before putting more weight into the door and shoving whatever’s blocking him out of the way. He manages to force it open, and he blows out a defeated sigh at the sight inside, his raised arm dropping to his side.

On the floor of the grimy bathroom is a guy in a green uniform polo drenched in blood. His body is splayed out on the dirty tile, arms wide at his sides like a cross, and his torso turned so that his bent knees rest on the ground. Most notably, however, is his head. It rests against the wall, below the note about Bryce’s massive dong, and a steak knife with the price tag still attached is shoved into his temple. 

“Shit,” says Glenn, coming up beside Daryl to see for himself. Daryl turns to Rick, waiting to see what he thinks they should do. 

Silently, Rick squeezes between the two of them and squats down beside the corpse, mindful of the pool of blood still leaking from the head wound. Without a word, Rick starts patting around the guy’s pockets until he finds his wallet. Daryl and Glenn exchange a glance. 

“Uh, Rick,” Glenn says. “Is now really the time to be pickpocketing?” 

“I’m not pickpocketing, dumbass,” Rick says, no real bite to his tone. He flips the billfold open and tilts his head, reading the driver’s license stuck inside a clear casing. “Wayne Dunlap,” he mutters.

“What?” asks Daryl.

“Wayne Dunlap,” Rick says again. “That’s his name.”

Daryl regards the corpse—regards  _ Wayne Dunlap’s _ corpse. His eyes are open, and they’re cloudy like the other walkers’ had been, but Daryl looks past that and examines his other features. His face is full of angry, red acne, and his hanging jaw shows his overbite with braces stuck on them to rectify it. On his left wrist, just above a big bite mark, he has one of those neon colored paper bracelets they give out at concerts and festivals. The back of his hand has a faded M marked on it in black marker, designating him too young to order from the bar at whatever function he attended. This was an after school job, possibly to get a few dollars in his pocket to go out on the weekends, or to pay for dates with girlfriends or boyfriends. And hell, it’s one thing to die in such a traumatic way, but it’s just insult to injury to die at your minimum wage customer service job. In the shitter, no less.

“What a way to go,” Glenn says, voicing the same thought, nodding at the rusty toilet bowl to emphasize his point. He’s speaking in jest, but his face betrays him, pale as a sheet of paper.

“He was seventeen,” Rick says, still staring at the license. “Do you think his parents are looking for him? Someone should tell them.”

“I dunno, man,” Daryl says gently. “I feel for the kid, honest-to-god I do, and if it was one of my babies that was lost I’d be goin’ outta my goddamn mind tryna find out where they're at, but that’s the reason I can’t go all around town searchin’ for the kid’s parents. I got my own babies to get back to, and all three of us gots our girls. We’ll help who we can, but he’s gone, Rick.” 

“If he’s got people looking for him they’re gonna know where he worked,” Glenn says, leaning up against the doorframe, sort of slumped. “They’re gonna come here at some point if they’re still around.”

“Think of it this way—we’re givin’ them more time to hold onto hope. ‘Cause if his parents are worth a damn?” Daryl tries to imagine what it would feel like to lose his children, but even the thought alone is more than he’s able to handle. “It’ll break ‘em,” he says with certainty, suddenly needing to hold his twins like he needs air. “They ain’t never comin’ back from this. Grant ‘em a few more hours of mercy, and let’s do what we came here to do.”

Rick folds up the wallet and places it gingerly to his side. He rests the back of his hand against his mouth, shaking his head slowly.

“I had to leave Michonne’s mom on the kitchen floor,” he says after his silence has dragged on a good while. “I couldn’t do anything but cover her with a sheet. We had to get out of there, but leaving someone so important to the person I love in a state like that? That she had to see it in the first place?”

“I get it, man,” Daryl says, squeezing Rick’s shoulder. “We had to do the same thing with Barb. It’s fight or flight right now. Until we’re able to get some sort of handle on this we don’t have the luxury of worryin’ about anything but our own safety. It’s bullshit, but it’s what we gotta do.”

Daryl and Glenn wait anxiously, until Rick places a hand on Wayne’s lifeless shoulder and mutters, “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He gets to his feet and says to his friends, “Come on.”

“What are we gonna do?” Glenn asks.

“We’re gonna loot the fuck out of this store,” Rick says, and stalks past them, headed with purpose towards a stack of shopping baskets. He lifts three off the pile and hands one to the both of them. “Glenn, what’s all on the list again?”

Glenn pulls out the paper and Rick and Daryl read over his shoulder. It’s got things on it like candles, flashlights, paper towels, toilet paper, etc.

“Glenn, you focus on the list,” Rick says. “Daryl, you check and see if there’s anything the kids need, and maybe check the clothing section. I’m gonna do a general sweep and see if there’s anything that stands out as something we forgot.”

“I’m letting you know now that I’m grabbing as much toilet paper as they have,” Glenn says.

“You eat a lot of fiber or somethin’?” Daryl asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he says. “Do you know anything about apocalypse protocol? Hoarding toilet paper is like, rule number one.”

“Ain’t it a big premature to be callin’ it the apocalypse?” Daryl asks.

“We just found a dead kid lying in a pool of his own blood, and left him there. You and I have both stabbed people we know in the brain.” Rick shrugs helplessly. “Is it really so premature?”

*

They end up all trading their baskets for carts. Glenn’s is filled mostly with different brands of toilet paper, and almost just as many paper towels. They clean out the shelves of batteries, cheap, badly scented candles, and flimsy plastic flashlights. Rick throws a bunch of crappy, off-brand, non-perishable food items into his cart, as well as several crates of water, despite the wells back on the farm.

Daryl rifles through the less obnoxious clothing items, all of them made with stitching that looks like it could be ripped apart Captain Kirk-style by even noodle-arms-Glenn flexing too hard. He loads up on socks and underwear, especially for the kids. He makes sure to stop for tampons and pads, and essentially sweeps the entirety of the medicine shelves into his cart. If they’re gonna act like it’s the apocalypse then he might as well go all in.

(He makes a couple pit-stops for non-essentials. He raids the chocolate bars for Josie and Carol, and finds a giant tub of animal crackers for Jesse, who doesn’t exactly eat them, so much as uses them to tell elaborate stories. He also makes sure to get a few crayons and construction paper, as well as a couple cheap kids’ books that are advanced enough not to bore Josie to tears.)

By the time they’re done they’ve got quite the haul. He’s feeling guilty, and he knows his friends are too, Rick especially, but none of them say anything about it. It’s simultaneously the right and wrong thing to do, and Daryl doesn’t have it in him to make sense of that right now. 

They roll their several carts out of the shop, staying vigilant as they head to their truck. They’re just about done loading everything into the bed of the pickup, when that unnerving nothing Daryl keeps hearing suddenly turns into an even more unnerving  _ something _ . He freezes in place like a dog catching a scent. 

“What is it?” Rick asks, but Daryl waves an impatient hand to shush him. He listens for another few seconds, until becoming certain he’s hearing what he thinks he is.

“Someone’s calling for help,” he says.

“What?” Rick asks, at the same time Glenn says, “Where?” 

The questions answer themselves a moment later when the cry for help gets loud enough for all three of them to hear it. A terrified plea accompanying the sound of feet running on gravel gets closer and closer. 

“The alley,” Daryl says, pulling out his knife without a second thought. When his friends hesitate, he says, “Y’all wanted to help someone, right? Well, here’s your chance.”

That’s all the convincing Rick needs. He pulls his gun out of its holster around his waist and flips the safety off. They turn to Glenn expectantly, who, now faced with the prospect of the horrible thing Daryl and Rick have already had to do, seems a lot less eager to come to anyone’s rescue then he did in the store. The reservations are fleeting, however, his conscience getting the better of him, and he takes the knife they’d given him that morning out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Keep that somewhere easier to reach,” Daryl tells him sternly, before taking off towards the alleyway, Rick and Glenn at his heel.

He turns the corner and nearly collides with a man running with a limp, four walkers ambling after him not far behind.

“Get to that truck over there,” Daryl says without preamble, shoving the man bodily towards the parking lot. “Rick, how’s your aim?” he asks his friend, not looking to go out of his way for a melee fight with a bunch of opponents with venomous, snapping teeth.

“Hopefully as good as they all say at the station,” he says. He raises his pistol and Daryl ducks out of the way as Rick takes his first shot, the sound reverberating in the caged alley between buildings on either side. The bullet hits one of the walker’s shoulder blades, and does nothing to slow it down. 

“The head,” Daryl reminds him.

“I know, my hand shook,” Rick says, panic rising in his tone. He steadies himself, taking an extra second to aim properly, and his next shot takes the walker in the far back down with a hit right smack dab in the middle of his forehead. He hits one more, but the other two are gaining. By the time Rick goes to take a fourth shot they’re too close. Going straight into fight, because flight has never been his thing, Daryl lunges at the walker closest to him, knocking into its waist, slamming it into a brick wall. He grips its neck just below its jaw, holding it still to prevent it from biting him, and drives his knife into its skull. It’s easier the second time, and Daryl hates that he knows that.

Panting, Daryl turns on his heel, expecting to take on the other walker, but finds it already collapsed on the ground in a heap, Glenn standing over it, the blade of his knife dripping blood, and his eyes wide as saucers. His whole body is trembling so hard he drops his weapon and slumps against a dumpster behind him. 

Now all three of them have made a kill.

“Either of you bit?” Daryl asks, trying to catch his breath. 

“I’m okay,” Rick says. “Glenn?” 

Glenn doesn’t say anything right away. He squats down and puts his head between his knees.

“Dude, you good?” Daryl asks.

“Give me a sec,” Glenn says, voice muffled. They watch him take several deep breaths, before pulling himself together and getting to his feet. 

“Bit?” Daryl asks again, looking his friend up and down. He’s got blood smeared down his front, but Daryl doesn’t think it’s his. Glenn shakes his head. 

“No,” he says weakly. 

“Aight, good,” Daryl says. He wants to give him more time to process, but, he remembers, he just sent a stranger to their truck full of stolen supplies. Rick seems to have the same thought, because he gestures for the other two to follow him, and they go back around to the parking lot, thankfully finding the man they just saved leaning against the pickup, winded but disinterested in all the goods piled up behind him.

“Shouldn’t have shot that gun,” the man says to them. “More of them will come now. The noise attracts them.”

“You’re welcome,” Glenn says with a scoff. The man looks at him and nods.

“Sorry,” he says. “Excuse my manners. Thank you. I couldn’t have handled that on my own.”

The man appears to be in his sixties, with long white hair, a braided beard with beads in it, and a Grateful Dead t-shirt to go with his bell bottoms and Burkenstocks. 

“Who are you?” Rick asks. 

“Name’s Bo,” he says. “I was tryna go check on a friend. Took a walk to her house, but clearly that didn’t work out so well.”

“Did you find her?” 

“Yeah. One of you just killed her.” 

The trio exchanges grimaces.

“Where you tryna get to?” Daryl asks, moving right on past. “We gotta get back to our families but we can drop you off somewhere if you’re close.”

“Live in a loft above my theater. The five dollar theater. You know it?” 

“Yep,” all three of them say. Bo looks satisfied.

“Well if you don’t mind givin’ an old man a lift, it’d be greatly appreciated. Especially because we’ve got company,” Bo says mildly. Daryl and his friends spin around and see five or six more walkers emerging from the alleyway. 

“Oh fuck,” Rick says, grabbing the keys out of his pocket and backing up to the driver’s side door.

“Told you the gun would draw 'em in,” Bo says.

“Shut up and get in if you’re comin’,” Daryl says, shoving Glenn forward. The four of them cram inside, and Rick peels out of the lot like a bat out of hell, the walkers trailing behind for as long as they can.

“How many of those have you seen?” Glenn asks, sitting up in his seat to watch out the back window. 

“Seen plenty over the past few days. I sit on my roof and watch ‘em go by. Waves and waves of ‘em. They must be coming from other towns. All of the ones I’ve seen have been headed in a pretty steady southeastern direction, unless some sound distracts ‘em.”

“The whole town’s like this?” Daryl asks, looking at Bo in the rearview mirror. 

“As far as I can tell, kiddo. You three are the first living people I’ve seen in at least two days, and I’ve been keeping watch.” Bo sighs solemnly, and says, “Poor Marge.” 

Daryl almost asks who Marge is, until he deduces that it’s probably his friend they killed, and decides not to mention it.

The drive to the theater is short, nothing in this town too far apart. Rick pulls up alongside the old, beaten-down building that hasn’t changed its appearance in all the years Daryl’s been alive. The marquee advertises, in big black letters,  _ Caddyshack II _ ,  _ Grizzly Man _ (which Daryl assumes is some sort of documentary about bears), and  _ Breakfast at Tiffany’s _ .

“Well, lads, thanks for the ride,” Bo says, clapping his hands on his lap. Glenn slides out of the car to let him out, and reaches in the back and tosses him a package of toilet paper.

“Stuff’s important,” he says. 

“That it is,” Bo agrees. 

“Hey,” Daryl calls out before Bo can go back inside. “Do you secure the licensing on the movies that show here?”

“I do,” Bo says mildly. Daryl considers how to phrase his next question, and ultimately lands on,

“The fuck?” 

Bo shrugs.

“Been in business for over thirty years,” he says. “Used to cost fifty cents to get in. Never been close to going under. Must have been doing something right.” 

On that note, Bo turns on his heel and heads to the door to the theater. They watch him unlock the doors, Glenn sliding back into his seat, and soon enough he disappears.

“Weird guy,” Glenn says. 

“Mm,” Daryl agrees. Rick remains silent, and when Daryl looks over he finds him frowning at the steering wheel with a furrowed brow. “What is it?” Daryl asks him.

“How long,” Rick says slowly. “Do you think it would take to walk from here to Hershel’s farm?” 

“Um, I dunno, couple days at least. It’s pretty far out there.”

“Right, and what direction is it in?” 

“It’s a straight shot,” Daryl says, not sure why it matters. “You take the highway and head...you head southeast.” 

Rick nods as Daryl puts two and two together, tongue between his teeth. 

“Exactly.” 

“Guys,” Glenn says warily. “Didn’t he says something about  _ waves and waves _ of walkers going that way?” 

“Oh, fuck me,” Daryl says, gesturing frantically at Rick to put the truck in drive.

Rick hits the accelerator so fast they go over the curb. He does a big u-turn in the middle of the street and heads southeast, as fast as the damn thing will take them.

*

_ Daryl lays on his back on Glenn’s floor, trying to play a first person shooter game upside down, so as to not disturb the sleeping cat on his belly. Every time he tries to move, Picatso digs her claws into him a little, threatening him. Consequently, he is not doing great at the game. _

_ “Dude, you fucking suck,” Glenn says from on his bed. _

_ “Rick’s missed most of his shots too, and he ain’t tryna figure out where everything is upside down,” Daryl argues, giving up and tossing his controller to the side. Glenn pauses the game with a huff, and leans over the side of the bed to flip him off. Daryl blows him a kiss.  _

_ “Stop flirting you two,” Rick says, sitting his own controller by the TV and taking a piece of pizza from the box on Glenn’s desk. “When’s your dad leaving again, Daryl?” he asks with his mouth full. _

_ “Tomorrow, thank fuck,” Daryl says with a sigh of relief. His friends don’t know what exactly goes on at home, but they’ve pieced together that things are better when his dad’s out of town than when he’s hanging around. “He only rolled back through ‘cause someone owed him money. He ain’t intendin’ to stay.”  _

_ “Thank fuck, ‘cause that means you get to fuck?” Glenn asks, smirking.  _

_ “If I weren’t afraid this cat would claw my face off if I moved I’d beat your face in right now,” Daryl says mildly, trying to shuffle into a more comfortable position without incurring the wrath of kitty claws.  _

_ “Okay, but that’s definitely a perk of your dad leaving, though, right?” Rick asks. “Carol gets to come over and you get to have your cute little sleepovers?” _

_ “Not so cute anymore,” Glenn says. “Now they’re just downright nasty.” _

_ “How about we stop talkin’ about my sex life?” Daryl suggests hopefully. _

_ “After all the work we put into helping you have a sex life? Nah, we earned this,” Glenn says, and Rick hums his agreement. _

_ “Fuck you both,” Daryl says. “It is nice havin’ her over, though. Everything’s a lil’ less shitty when she’s around, you know?”  _

_ “Aww,” both Rick and Glenn say in unison. _

_ “Aaand forget I said anything.” _

_ “We’re just fucking with you, brother,” Rick says, smiling good-naturedly. “You know we’re happy for you, even if the two of you are absolutely disgusting.” _

_ “Completely vile. ‘Ooh, look at us, we’re so crazy in love!’ Awful,” Glenns says. _

_ “Shut the fuck up forever,” Daryl says, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “‘Sides, we ain’t even said...you know. Ain’t said the thing.” _

_ “The thing, huh?” Rick says. _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “The thing, as in, the big L word?”  _

_ “Whatever.” _

_ “Here’s a crazy idea,” Glenn says. “You could say the thing to her. Boom, problem solved.” _

_ “Yeah, I ain’t doin’ that.” _

_ “Why not?” Rick asks. _

_ “Ooh, I bet I know,” Glenn says. “I’m thinking something like, ‘’cause what if I say it and she doesn’t feel the same way and then it gets all weird and then she’ll break up with me and I’ll be alone forever?’ Am I close?” _

_ “Mm, pretty much on target,” Daryl says.  _

_ “You’re not just vile,” Glenn says. “You’re also impossible. The two of you will be at your wedding, and you’ll be like, ‘oh, by the way, I never said it before, but I love you. Hope that’s okay. If you don’t want to get married anymore, that’s cool. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said it, huh? It was too soon.’” _

_ “I’m not  _ that _ bad,” Daryl grumbles. At his friends’ silence he scowls, and says, “I ain’t!”  _

_ “Don’t feel bad, Daryl,” Rick says. “Glenn said I love you for the first time in the middle of sex. Maggie told me.”  _

_ Daryl's bark of laughter earns him several claws in the gut. _

_ “Yeah, well Rick said it to Michonne via text,” Glenn says.  _

_ “No, that’s not true. I said it in person, but she didn’t hear me and it felt weird to say it again, so I texted it to her later. There’s a difference.” _

_ “You guys got no right to pick on me, you’re both dumb fucks.”  _

_ “Well, yeah, obviously, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t one,” Glenn says, flicking a pepperoni at him. Picatso perks up, the prospect of food more appealing than a nap. She leaps off Daryl’s belly and saunters over to pick at the snack. “Oh hey, look! You’re free! Now sit up and actually play the damn game.” _

_ Grumbling, Daryl pulls himself into a sitting position and picks up his controller. _

_ “Why do I even come over here?” he asks.  _

_ “‘Cause you love game night,” Glenn says. “And you love us.” _

_ “Shh, Glenn it’s too soon,” Rick says, shushing him. Daryl casts them both a deadpan look. _

_ “Unpause the fucking game before I leave.” _

_ “We’re doing game night every Thursday for the rest of our lives, just to spite you,” Glenn says.  _

_ “Great,” Daryl says flatly. “Maybe by then we’ll actually be good at playing.” _

_ “Wouldn’t bank on it,” Rick says, getting shot for the millionth time.  _

_ “Yeah,” Daryl sighs. “Never mind.”  _

*

Daryl hears shots before he sees the farm, and he’s about two seconds away from diving out of the truck and running the rest of the way.

“That was a rifle,” Rick says. Daryl already knows and doesn’t see the point in saying so. Not when his wife and kids are somewhere near that particular rifle. They pull up the drive, dirt flying beneath the wheels, and Daryl opens the door and jumps out before Rick has even come to a complete stop. 

It’s carnage, the bodies of walkers strewn all across the lawn, while more still keep coming. Waves and waves. Up near the house he sees several of them descend on what must be a body, and Daryl tastes bile in his throat when he can’t identify whose body it is. He takes two steps forward, trying to make out any features of the person the walkers are tearing to shreds, when Rick suddenly bumps into him, driving a knife into a walker Daryl didn’t even see coming. 

“Get your eyes in your head, brother,” Rick yells at him, rushing off to go help. 

“Daryl, it’s not Carol, she’s over there. Maggie too,” Glenn says, hopping out of the truck and point up ahead. Daryl’s eyes fall on his wife and he can breathe a little again. Daryl runs to her, getting intercepted by another walker. It clings to Daryl, snarling and spitting in his face. He holds it back with his forearm, groping for his knife. He can hear the snapping of teeth right in his ear, when he finally gets a grip on the handle and shoves the blade up through the back of the walker’s skull. 

“Daryl,” Carol yells from across the yard. He lets the walker drop to the ground in a heap and turns towards her. She’s hugging Jesse to her hip, and has a shotgun in her other hand. “Daryl, I can’t find Josie. I don’t know where Josie is.”

She’s nearly hysterical, and Daryl’s blood turns to ice. He searches wildly through the chaos, yelling Josie’s name. The body by the house is still being devoured. It’s too big, he thinks, too big to be a child. 

Then he hears her scream. 

He follows the sound and turns just in time to see a walker descend on his daughter. 

“Daddy, help!” Josie screams, a knife in her hand waving skillessly in the air, all her training forgotten in her panic. Daryl sprints towards her, but someone beats him to her. Merle yanks Josie back by the collar of her shirt and tackles the walker, wrestling with it on the ground. Silent now, Josie stares at the fight with wide eyes. Daryl reaches her, scooping her up in his arms and crushing her to his chest.

“Are you hurt?” he says. When she doesn’t answer, he grabs her face and practically yells, “Are you hurt? Bit? Scratched? Tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Josie says quietly, gaze still fixed on Merle. Daryl turns to see his brother beating in the skull of the walker that almost made a meal out of Josie with a crowbar. Merle gets to his feet, nodding, wiping guts and grime off his face with the back of his hand, only serving to smear it more. 

“She alright?” he asks, nodding at Josie.

“Yeah, are you?” 

“Fine,” Merle says. 

“Uncle Merle,” Josie says quietly. Merle shakes his head at her.

“We’re all good, sweet thing, now you go with your daddy to find your momma, and the lot of you get in your van and don’t stop for nothin’.” To Daryl he says, “The hill. Go to the hill. Pass it along, we’ll all meet up there.”

“‘Kay,” Daryl says. “Merle, who is that? By the house?”

“That boy. The one with Maggie’s sister?” When Daryl stalls, looking at the feasting walkers, Merle smacks him the shoulder, startling him back to attention. “Can’t do nothin’ about it now, baby brother. You take your daughter and you go.”

“Right,” Daryl mutters. “Right.” 

He and Josie make a beeline for Carol, who’s up ahead, looking absolutely torn between keeping Jesse safe and diving into the mess of walkers and bloodshed to find her daughter. When she sees Daryl carrying her she instantly bursts into tears, meeting them halfway, kissing Josie on the head. 

“Thank God,” she says, over and over.

“We have to go,” Daryl says, lifting her chin and making her meet his eye. “We’re all gonna meet at the hill. You got the keys?” 

“In my pocket.”

“Take the kids, get them in, get in the driver’s seat and start the van. I’m tellin’ the others what we’re doin’ and I’ll be right there, okay?” 

Nodding, Carol takes Josie from him, neither of them ready to sit her back down on her own again. She and the twins go their way, and Daryl takes out another walker as he finds his friends.

“Michonne,” Daryl yells out when he sees her wielding a...is that a  _ sword _ ? Not the time to dwell on it. “Michonne, get Rick and go to your car. We’re going to the that spot in the woods where me and Carol got married. He’ll know how to get there.”

“Got it,” she yells back, slicing the top of a walker’s head clean off. He’s going to need to ask about that later. 

Key word being later. He makes his way back to the van, managing to get directions to Glenn and Hershel, before pulling open the passenger side door of his vehicle. Bounding out of nowhere, Henry leaps into the van first, startling everyone. He climbs into the backseat and sits his head on Josie’s lap. Jesse’s still not let go of that damn salamander. Daryl shakes his head and gets inside.

“They all got the message. Everyone’s making their way to the cars,” he tells Carol. “Let’s go, baby, come on now.” 

Carol blows out a breath and steadies herself, her hand trembling when she puts the van in drive. She glances in the rearview mirror. Daryl looks too, and sees Rick and Michonne have made it to their truck, and Hershel and Beth are headed toward the truck with all the supplies. Glenn, Maggie, and Merle are all still battling walkers, but aren’t overrun.

“They’ll be okay, but we need to go,” Daryl says, softly but firmly. She bites her bottom lip, nodding. She starts down the drive. From the backseat, Jesse’s very small voice says,

“Momma? Daddy? The horses.” 

Out of his window, Daryl sees walkers find their way into the pasture and barn. 

“Don’t look,” Carol says, just as several crowd a terrified horse.

Daryl turns in his seat to look at his children. Jesse’s head is bowed, tears falling into his lap. Josie glances up at Daryl and holds his gaze for a second, before turning away and staring out of her own window with an emotionless face, her hand scratching Henry behind the ear.

Sighing, Daryl turns around and leans back in his seat, as Carol takes them out to the highway, leaving the ruins of the farm behind.

*

One by one, everyone shows up at the base of the hill that’s become so important to Daryl over the years. Refuge was never one of things he expected it to be, however.

Rick and Michonne show up first, both filthy and covered in blood and dirt. Hershel pulls up next, salvaging the truck of supplies. He gets out, and goes over to help his daughter out, holding her in a tight embrace as she sobs over her loss.

Daryl is sick to his stomach from waiting by the time Glenn and Maggie finally show up. They park the car and Glenn immediately goes off into the trees and vomits, while Maggie just slumps against the car, tilting her head to the sky and fighting back tears.

Merle’s the last to arrive. Daryl hears his motorcycle before he sees him, the old thing rumbling through the forest. He parks next to the truck and swings his leg up and over the side, brushing dirt off his pants, as if the rest of him isn’t disgusting. 

“That’s everyone,” Carol says quietly. Beth’s sobs get a little harder, and Carol grimaces apologetically.

“Is everyone here all right?” Rick asks, doing a sweep around the group with his eyes.

“We’re all good, Officer Friendly,” Merle says, patting Rick on the shoulder. “Showed some balls back there. Didn’t know you had that in you. Your little friend over there puking his guts out showed off some moves, too.” 

“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not,” Glenn says weakly from over by his tree.

“Thank you,” Daryl says to Merle. He nods down at Josie. Merle shrugs.

“Nothin’ but a thing, baby brother. Although I’m sure she pro’ly coulda took ‘em, huh, sweet thing?” Merle asks, but Josie doesn’t smile. In fact, she glares. 

“Liar,” she says quietly. Merle frowns at her. 

“Sure you coulda,” he says.

“That’s not why you’re a liar,” Josie says. “You said we’re all good, but no we aren’t.”

“Josie, what are you talking about, sugar?” Carol asks, putting a hand on Josie’s head. She moves away from the touch, still scowling at Merle.

“I saw,” she says to Merle. “You know I did.”

Merle twists his mouth, drumming his fingers against his thigh. After a beat, he throws his hands up in defeat.

“Okay,” he says. “Caught me. Shoulda known I couldn’t never fool anyone with a brain like yours.” He smiles, but Josie looks absolutely disgusted. 

“What’s she talkin’ about, Merle?” Daryl asks quietly. 

“Show daddy, Uncle Merle,” Josie says, holding her elbows. Merle huffs a laugh.

“Yeah alright.” 

Sighing deeply, Merle reaches up to the collar of his ratty shirt and tugs it down, revealing a wound between his neck and shoulder.

A big, bloody welt in the shape of a pair of teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thiiiiiink i finally found a way to make my updates more consistent. last week i was super sick, but the main problem is that i've fallen out of the habit of anally meeting deadlines, so i had to find a new way to trick myself into doing it. i deadass made myself a sticker chart. gold sticker for me today, bitch!
> 
> anyway! the five dollar theater is my favorite on-going joke, and if you don't think it's hilarious you have no sense of humor. 
> 
> it is very late. i always underestimate the amount of time it'll take me to write a thing. i'd say someday i'll learn, but honestly, that's probably not true.
> 
> tonight's in memoriam:  
-wayne dunlap (btw, find me at waynedunlaptheorgandonor.tumblr.com)  
-jimmy, who, ngl, died partially so i had one last person to keep track of
> 
> you know who's not dead? that fucking salamander i thoroughly regret giving to jesse. wtf do you do with a salamander?? you can't even hold them.
> 
> whatever, we all live with regrets.
> 
> see you in a week, babes!
> 
> byee,  
-diz


	5. When You Can't Do It For You

_ Daryl’s sitting on the couch trying to get peanut butter out of Josie’s hair when someone knocks on the front door. Jesse, the one who put peanut butter in Josie’s hair in the first place, stands up from where he’s making a disastrous mess with crackers, and toddles over to the door. Daryl plops Josie down on the floor and follows his son to see who their afternoon caller is. _

_ “The fuck’s all over your face, baby brother?” Merle asks as soon as Daryl swings the door open. Daryl also has peanut butter in his hair, as well as on his face, and has spent the better part of his day thus far wondering why he and Carol ever thought children were a good idea. _

_ “The fuck!” Jesse says happily, beaming at his uncle, holding his hands up high. _

_ “Whups,” Merle says giving Daryl a sheepish grin as he reaches down to pluck Jesse off the ground, hoisting him up onto his waist. Jesse immediately gets peanut butter on Merle’s jacket. Jesse is also covered in peanut butter. It’s been a day. _

_ “I’d be madder about that if Glenn hadn’t accidentally taught him the word ‘dildo’ the other day,” Daryl says. He steps to the side to let Merle in. _

_ “Dildo,” Jesse says sagely to his uncle. _

_ “Dildo,” Merle agrees. Josie comes over and tugs on Mere’s pant leg. Merle peers down at her and says, “Hey there, pretty lady. You learn any new words this week?” _

_ In response, Josie reaches up to take Merle’s hand and silently leads him to the couch, where she gets him to sit down. Once he’s sitting, she climbs up and joins Jesse on Merle’s lap. Jesse smushes cracker crumbs into the peanut butter in her hair.  _

_ “Take that as a no,” Merle says, kissing the kids’ peanut buttery heads. _

_ “She still ain’t sayin’ much,” Daryl says. _

_ “Doc on your ass about it again?” _

_ “Ass!” says Jesse. _

_ “I said at least five other words in that sentence, why’s that the one you pick up on?” Merle asks Jesse, who simply gives a toothy grin. _

_ “Yeah, but they can suck it. She’ll talk if’n she wants to. She gets her point across just fine.” _

_ “What do them docs know anyhow?” Merle asks, nuzzling Josie’s freckled face. “They’s just jealous ‘cause you got the two most perfect kids they ever seen so they gotta come up with somethin’ wrong to make ‘em like the rest of us.” _

_ “That’s pro’ly it,” Daryl says with a small smile. “So what’s up? You didn’t say you was stoppin’ by. Everything good?”  _

_ “Yeah yeah,” Merle says dismissively. “I was actually wonderin’ if your girl was in. Wanted to talk to her.” _

_ “Carol?” Daryl asks, brow furrowed. _

_ “You got another girl I should know about?” _

_ “What? No. I just meant, why’d you come out here to talk to her?” _

_ “Am I not allowed to talk to my sister-in-law?” _

_ “No, ‘course you’re allowed, it’s just...I guess it don’t matter none. She’s out back washin’ peanut butter off the dog.” At Merle’s blink, Daryl sighs and says,”Don’t ask.” _

_ As if on cue, the sound of the back screen door creaking open and slamming shut comes from the kitchen. Merle scoots the toddlers off his lap and mutters something about being right back. He gets to his feet and heads to where Daryl can hear Carol washing her hands in the kitchen sink. Daryl frowns after his brother, before rallying the kids up and leading them to the bathroom, since a wet washcloth is clearly not solving their peanut butter problem. _

_ Daryl runs a bath and multitasks impressively, stripping the kids down and getting them into the warm water without either of them escaping through the cracked door. He tosses in some floaty toys to distract them as he starts rubbing baby shampoo in the peanut buttery floof of hair on top of Jesse’s head. _

_ He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the house is small. Merle and Carol have migrated into the living room, and although they’re talking low they aren’t whispering, so sure, he doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but if he strains his ears to hear a little better? Well, sometimes curiosity gets the best of us. He takes a cup and pours water over Jesse’s head, covering his son’s eyes to keep the soap out of them, and he does some more multitasking, cleaning the kids while listening in on his wife and brother in the other room. _

_ “It’s just been hard, y’know? Don’t even know why. Makes me feel like a goddamn pussy,” Merle is saying. _

_ “You’re not, though. If it were as easy as quitting and never thinking about it again the producers of  _ Intervention _ would be thinking about pitching a new show. You’ve only relapsed that one time. That’s impressive,” Carol says. _

_ “Yeah, and that relapse almost killed my brother; almost left his kiddos without a daddy. And for what? ‘Cause my dumbass wanted a high. And that’s the thing that’s so fuckin’ dumb—I almost killed my own flesh an’ blood ‘cause of the dope, but I still got this part o’ me that wants to say fuck it and go right back into it.” _

_ “But you haven’t, and that’s what matters.” _

_ “Sometimes I want it so bad I can’t hardly think of nothin’ else. I ran into this fuckin’ asshole from my dope days last night, and he asked if I wanted to go smoke up with him, and I told him no, but the truth was I did. I fuckin’ wanted it, and havin’ it so close was like danglin’ a raw steak in front of a dog. It’d be easy as hell to go get a hit. I got about a million contacts who could hook me up; could get a dime bag in the same amount of time it’d take me to order a pizza. I’m a fuckin’ fat kid in a room full o’ chocolate cake I ain’t allowed to touch.”  _

_ Carol snorts at Merle’s analogy, and says, “Maybe, but instead of eating the cake you came to me to remind you why you’re supposed to stay away from it. There are plenty of strong people who would have eaten the cake instead, so don’t sell yourself short. You’re not weak for having cravings. What matters is whether or not you give in to them.”  _

_ “I laid in bed last night lookin’ at pics of the twins, tryna remind myself why it wasn’t worth it. It’s one thing to fuck up my own life, but it’s a whole other thing to do that to y’all.” _

_ “When I was at my lowest points with my postpartum depression—when all I could think about was checking out—sometimes the only thing tethering me to my last threads of sanity was thinking about what killing myself would do to my family,” Carol says, making Daryl’s heart hurt. “It’s great to want to take care of yourself because you’re worth it, but there are days when that self-worth doesn’t outweigh that  _ need _ . I’ve come to find that when you can’t do it for you, it’s okay to do it for them.” _

_ Merle is silent for several beats. _

_ “I’m doin’ it for them today,” he says finally, sounding like he’s talking more to himself than to Carol. “For you, too, darlin’, cause God knows you’re as much my blood as them other three is.” _

_ “And I will gladly be your support—your reason for staying clean—whenever you can’t do it for yourself.” _

_ “No,” Josie says firmly then, startling Daryl. He brings his attention back to the kids and realizes he’s been washing suds off of his daughter that have long since been cleared away, and she’s no longer putting up with it. She pushes the cup away with a grumpy scowl. _

_ “Daddy, clean now,” Jesse informs Daryl with considerably less animosity. _

_ “Yeah, you are. Sorry.” _

_ He shakes his head, tuning out of the conversation not meant for him in the first place, and focuses his full attention on the twins. _

*

What Daryl’s seeing and what it means aren’t matching up in his brain. There’s a clean bite mark on his brother’s shoulder, and empirically he knows that means that whatever this science fiction-like horror of an ailment is, Merle is now infected with it. Objectively, he knows there’s only one way this is headed.

But subjectively, nothing makes any sense, because Merle is standing  _ right there _ , looking alive and well, say for that single wound. They don’t know how any of this work—Merle’s the only one who claims to have seen a bite turn someone into a walker—who’s to say it happens the same way for everyone? They’re working off limited information, and maybe—

“Baby brother,” Merle says then. “I can see your brain goin’ a thousand miles an hour tryna find some way outta this, but there ain’t one. It is what it is. No sense pretendin’ it ain’t.”

Daryl doesn’t know how to respond to that. No one does, apparently, as a long, tense silence passes between the lot of them.

“Uncle Merle, did one of the monsters bite you?” Jesse asks, wrapping his hand tight around Carol’s pant leg, Stew’s cage still clutched to his side like a safety blanket.

“Yeah, kid. They got me.”

“But I thought that means you get sick and then act like the other monsters.”

“It does,” Josie says quietly to her brother.

“But then what’s gonna happen?” Jesse asks, directing his question at Josie.

“It means Uncle Merle is gonna die like Auntie Barb,” Josie says flatly, and then draws her lips into a thin line, decidedly done with talking. She turns away from all of them, tucking herself at the base of a nearby tree, curled in a ball. Henry follows her and lays down at her feet. Everyone watches her do this. Daryl and Carol know better than to try and comfort her; when she gets overwhelmed, Josie’s wont is to pull away and keep her mouth sealed shut, and the best course of action is to let her calm herself down. 

“Let her be,” Daryl mutters to his friends.

“I don’t want you to die, Uncle Merle,” Jesse says, lower lip trembling. Out of the corner of his eye Daryl sees Josie tuck herself in even tighter.

“Don’t worry, little man, everything’s gonna be alright,” Merle tells his nephew.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Glenn says, words dripping with doubt even as he says them.

“You know there ain’t,” Merle says over his shoulder to Glenn. “We all know it, so here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna rifle through what we got and set up camp in this here clearing. We’ve got a couple tents packed in with all the other shit. We’ll put those at the top of the hill. Harder for anythin’ to get at y’all if you get some height advantage on the fuckers.”

Daryl doesn’t miss the way he excludes himself from the rest of them.

“What about you?” Rick asks quietly. “Do you...are you feeling sick?”

“Sick of standin’ around losin’ our last bit o’ daylight, yeah,” Merle says, stalking over to the van and popping open the trunk. He rummages around for supplies , while everyone else stands around dumbly, at a loss.

From beside Daryl, Carol detaches herself from Jesse and approaches Merle. Merle looks up at her, opening his mouth to bark an order, or maybe protest any words of pity she might have, but Carol cuts him off before he can get a single syllable out, by wrapping her arms tight around his middle and resting her head on his chest. Sighing, Merle rubs her back, letting her hug him close.

“It’ll be okay, doll,” he tells her. Carol clenches her eyes shut, shaking her head.

“Josie already told you off for lying to her,” she says. “Don’t do the same to me.”

“Alright,” Merle says softly. “We don’t got the time to worry about me right now, though. We gotta get everyone safe first. Gonna need shelter ‘fore nightfall. Remember, darlin’, you’re a momma. You gotta focus on those babies ‘fore anythin’ else.”

Carol pulls away, steeling herself with a nod, brushing a few stray tears off her cheeks. Daryl can see her physically shift into action mode, and forces himself to do the same. His brother’s right—before all else, being a father comes first.

The next hour passes with unease. No one can figure out what they’re supposed to say, making all conversation stilted and solely about the tasks at hand. Even Jesse, with his ever endless chatter, can’t seem to find the words. They work in quiet tandem, setting up a camp, the silence broken up only by mumbles of directions, questions about where to put things, and Beth’s occasional sniffles. Josie hasn’t moved from her spot beside the tree, still as a rock. In the dimming daylight, Merle helps Daryl pitch a tent, and Daryl sees him wipe beads of sweat off his forehead even as the temperature outside drops the further down the sun goes. 

“How you feelin’?” Daryl asks him in an undertone.

“Come hold this while I hammer this stake into the ground, would you?” Merle says, avoiding his question entirely. Daryl goes over to his brother, but instead of taking hold of the piece of tent Merle’s trying to get control over, he puts the back of his hand on his forehead.

“The fuck, man?” Merle says predictably, shoving Daryl away, but Daryl isn’t dissuaded.

“Let me,” he says, hand still outstretched. With a tremendous sigh, Merle gives Daryl a flat ‘get on with it then’ gesture. Daryl presses his knuckles against his brother’s skin and grimaces at the clamminess he finds there. He’s not burning up, but he’s warmer than he should be, and Daryl knows it’s starting. “Gettin’ a fever,” he mumbles.

“Well, what’d you expect?” Merle says, pushing Daryl away again. “Help me with this, man, it’s almost dark.”

They finish putting the tent up in silence, Daryl casting worried looks at his brother whenever he thinks he can get away with it. They have one large tent and one smaller tent that will be a tight squeeze for eleven people. Or ten, if Merle…

“You think it’s safe to make a fire?” Daryl asks, cutting off his own thought train, wiping dirt off his hands on the back of his jeans.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Merle says. “Don’t wanna bring attention to yourselves. Doubt there’s anyone or anything this far out, but we thought the farm was safe, too, and that ain’t worked out the way we thought.”

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbles. Merle is rubbing his arms up and down like he’s getting chills, and he almost wants to insist on the fire just to make his brother more comfortable, but Merle’s right. It’s not worth the risk. “Gonna check on Carol and the kids, I’ll be back,” Daryl says instead, walking away before he says something unconscionable like, “Do you need anything?” or, “Maybe you should lay down.”

Carol is sitting on the ground a little ways away, knees drawn to her chest, petting Jesse’s floofy hair absently while the little boy sits criss-cross in front of her, nibbling on animal crackers. It’s a testament to how distraught Jesse is that he’s not going on and on about every cracker’s elaborate backstory. Carol looks up at Daryl when he approaches. Daryl nods down at Jesse in question, and Carol shrugs.

“This is all I could get him to eat,” she says quietly. “He says his stomach is hurting him.”

“That’s right, JJ?” Daryl asks, squatting down in front of his son. Jesse pauses mid-chew and twists his mouth.

“There’s lightning in my tummy,” he says. 

“How do you mean?” Daryl asks, giving a bemused frown. 

“Right here,” Jesse says, pointing just below his sternum. “‘Member on that cartoon when that guy got hit with a lightning zigzag and his body shook a bunch and his hair got all pointy?” 

“Mm, yeah, I remember.” He doesn’t, but he can infer.

“That’s what’s in my tummy. It feels all shaky. It’s making my heart beat funny and I don’t like it very much. I don’t like a lot of what’s happening very much.” 

“That feeling’s called anxiety, sweet potato,” Carol says gently. “When you get nervous or scared, sometimes you get anxiety and it makes you not feel so great.” 

“How do I turn it off?” Jesse asks. Carol smiles sadly at him. 

“You can’t always turn it off, baby. But it’ll go away eventually. Momma’s pretty anxious, and I bet your daddy is, too. Scary things are going on, it’s normal to have bad feelings.”

“Is that why Joey is having her behaviors?” Jesse asks. Daryl sighs, exchanging a glance with Carol.  _ Behaviors _ are what Josie’s teachers call it when she gets like this—refusing to speak or interact with anyone. It doesn’t happen as much as it did when she was teeny tiny, but every now and then, something at school would trigger it, and Daryl and Carol would get a call saying that Josie was “having behaviors,” as though the way their daughter processes big emotions is wrong and something they should be trying to rectify. As far as Daryl’s concerned, the world is heavy for a little kid, and if she wants to tune it out for a little while to process it, what’s so bad about that? His baby girl has never been a crier—she has to sort her feelings out somehow.

“How’s she doin’?” Daryl asks Carol. “See you got her to come up the hill.” He nods over to where Josie is laying on her side, head resting against a tolerant Henry, a few feet away from where the tents are pitched. She’s staring off into space, ignoring everyone and everything.

“Took some prodding,” Carol says. “I promised her she could have space as long as she stayed in our sight.” 

“She say anythin’?”

“Not a word.”

“Is Joey not talking ‘cause Uncle Merle is sick?” Jesse asks, breaking a cracker up into crumbs in his hands.

“That’s what pushed her over the edge, but it’s just been a hard few days for all of us,” Carol says, threading her fingers through the thick fluff on the top of his head. “Your sister sometimes just gets too much lightning in her belly.”

“Can I have a piece of paper? I wanna draw her a picture to make her feel better.” 

“‘Course you can,” Daryl says, gripping Jesse’s knee as Carol sticks her lower lip out.

“She’ll like that,” she says, kissing Jesse’s temple.

“No she won’t, she’ll think it’s dumb,” Jesse says with a shrug. “But she’ll understand.” 

Both Daryl and Carol snort.

“You know your sister well, sir,” Carol says.

“Imma run to the van and get your coloring stuff, okay?” Daryl says, standing up straight.

“Wanna grab the other lanterns we have back there, too?” Carol asks. 

“Mhm,” Daryl says, ducking down to kiss her. He cups her cheek and she hums at his touch, knowing it’s him giving her silent reassurance. He’s revitalized some by the feel of her, too. It’s that reminder he needs that he’s part of a team, and they’re gonna get through this night, wherever it takes them.

He makes his way down the steep hill to where all the cars have been moved over further into the trees to make them less obvious in case anyone comes by. Daryl’s not sure what he expects to happen if other people happen upon his group, but with a million and one stressful things going on right now he’s not exactly up for dealing with other people in crisis mode, too.

He unlocks the van and grabs one of Jesse’s drawing pads and crayons, as well as both kids’ teddy bears, and the two lanterns in the trunk. In a row, underneath all the other supplies, are the weapons from his shed that he, Rick, and Glenn packed what seems like weeks ago, even though it’s only been barely two days. Daryl ponders the weapons for a minute, what happened on the farm making him less comfortable with his single knife in his belt. He sets his armful of stuff to the side and picks up a pistol. He checks the clip, sees it’s fully loaded, and tucks it in the back of his pants, hoping his utter disregard for gun safety doesn’t end with a bullet in his ass. 

Daryl’s about to head back up the hill when he hears someone retching nearby. Following the sound, he approaches slowly, and in the last bit of dusk he makes out the silhouette of his brother leaning against Glenn and Maggie’s car and throwing up into the grass. Daryl waits for the contents of his brother’s stomach to finish making a reappearance before making himself known.

“You good?” he asks. Merle startles at his voice, which worries Daryl more than the vomiting; his brother doesn’t surprise easy.

“Yeah, fine,” Merle says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Even in the growing darkness, Daryl can tell that this is a goddamn lie. Merle is trembling, putting all his weight against the car to keep himself upright. 

“Want me to get you some water or somethin’?”

“Man, climb out of my ass, would you?” Merle says, pushing himself up and wobbling on his feet. Daryl reaches out to catch him if he tumbles, but Merle stubbornly angles himself away from him and eventually finds his footing. 

“I don’t know what I’m s’posed to be doin’ here,” Daryl admits quietly. “Tell me what to do?” It’s such a raw request, and Daryl realizes that in this moment he’s never felt more like a little brother looking to his older brother for guidance, and how selfish is that? He’s not the one dying here. 

To his credit, Merle doesn’t seem to find Daryl’s request self-centered in the slightest. Instead, Merle softens his tone and slips into older brother mode. He says, “I think it’s time I take care of this, baby brother. Don’t make no sense to wait around.”

“Take care of it?” Daryl asks, stomach churning. Or maybe it’s lightning. “What the hell’s that mean?” 

“I’m not gonna sit and let y’all put cool washcloths on my forehead and look at me all sad like,” Mere says. “I ain’t lettin’ myself get sicker, and I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ myself turn into one of them things, so I gotta take care of it before it gets to that point.”

“Take care of it how?”

“Don’t be dense, Daryl,” Merle says. “You ain’t no idiot. Them kids of yours didn’t get all their brains from your girl. Just most of ‘em.” 

Daryl can’t even grant him a pity laugh.

“You’re gonna kill yourself.” It’s not a question. “You can’t do that.”

“Yeah? And what exactly is the alternative?” 

“What if it don’t affect everyone the same way?” Daryl asks, flinching at the desperation in his voice. “Maybe some people are fightin’ it off. What if you end it but didn’t have to?”

“Baby brother,” Merle says, kindly but firmly. “I’m sick. Real sick. Already feel like hell, and it’s only gettin’ worse from here. How you intend to treat me with no hospital to get to, huh? With a couple Tylenol, fluids, and prayer? Nah, man, fuck that. Bob, at the end there, he was a bumbling mess, with sick on hisself and no mind left. Don’t make me suffer like that ‘cause of a fool’s hope. Let me go out with my dignity in tact.” 

Every fiber of his being wants to protest, but Daryl can’t think of a rebuttal that doesn’t amount to him simply not wanting his older brother to die.

“At least don’t do it yourself,” he says finally, but Merle shakes his head.

“No way in hell I’m puttin’ that on you. And you ain’t lettin’ your girl or them kids see me like that, you hear me? You neither. Gonna go deep in the woods and you’re gonna leave me there. Don’t go lookin’ for what’s left of me, don’t go diggin’ no holes, just let nature take its course with me like it’s meant to. You hear me?” When Daryl doesn’t answer Merle takes a solid step into his personal space and says, “Do you  _ hear me _ , baby brother?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl mutters after a beat. “I hear you.” 

Merle nods, satisfied. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and blows out a breath. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he tells Daryl. “We’re gonna go back up that hill, and we’re gonna be calm, ‘cause there’s a woman up there who lost her mother yesterday, a girl whose boyfriend gotten eaten right in front of her, and, most importantly, two lil' ones who need us to be strong for ‘em if they’re gonna get through this shit pile we’ve all been tossed into. 

“Then, I’m gonna say a few goodbyes, see myself out, and y’all are gonna go on without me. Alright? You can’t afford to get up in your feelin’s, not when there’s monsters in the dark tryna get at you. Think you can do that?”

Daryl wants to say no. He wants to go sit next to his daughter in a matching ball and tune out everything until the world has righted itself again. Instead, he breathes out a forced, “Yeah,” and fights a wince when Merle claps a hand on his shoulder. Without even touching him directly, Daryl can feel heat coming off his skin, his brother’s temperature having risen substantially in just the past half hour or so. 

He adjusts the mess of things he’s got in his arms, and lets Merle lead him back up the hill where camp has been set up, causing everyone to sit around idly, a nervous energy wafting off each and every one of them with nothing to distract them from all the bullshit. The two of them go over to where Carol and Jesse are still in the grass. Daryl places a lantern beside them and clicks it on. 

“Here, baby, you color for a bit, okay? Me and Uncle Merle need to talk to momma in private for a minute, mkay?” Daryl says, handing Jesse his colors and paper. Jesse looks between the three adults surrounding him, questions right there on his lips without his sister to ask them for him, but he bites them back, instead taking the items from Daryl with a muted thank you. Without being told to, Carol stands up, dusts the seat of her pants off, and follows Daryl and Merle out of earshot of the little boy.

“You look like shit,” Carol says to Merle before anything else, crossing her arms and giving him a once over. Merle grins.

“Not everyone can look as stunning as you, doll,” he says, nudging her with his elbow. Carol huffs a breath through her nose, but can’t seem to bring herself to smile.

“It’s starting, isn’t it? You’re getting sick?” she asks.

“Yeah, I ain’t feelin’ great,” Merle agrees. Carol searches his face and then ducks her head.

“You’re checking out, aren’t you?” she says, eyes trained on the ground.

“You know it’s the only way, darlin’.” He reaches over and lifts Carol’s chin with a finger. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says seriously. “And that ain’t me lyin’. You’re tough as nails. If it don’t get okay on its own, I know you’ll work your magic and make it okay. That’s what you do. You take broken things and make them good.”

Tears well up in Carol’s eyes, but she blinks them back, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. 

“What’s the plan?” she asks with impressive calm, and Daryl loves her so much for her it. Merle explains what he intends to do, and he’s not even all the way finished before she’s shaking her head. “You’re not gonna go walk out into the woods by yourself,” she says sternly. “We’re going with you. Me, Daryl, and the twins.”

“No,” Merle says, just as stern. “You’re not gonna watch that.”

“We won’t, but we’re gonna go with you as far as we can. Don’t argue.” 

Merle regards Carol for a long moment, before barking a laugh. He says, “Stubborn as hell, you know that? Stubbornest woman I ever met. Okay. Y’all come with me, but you ain’t stayin’ to the very end. I’ll give you the time to get away. It ain’t just ‘cause I don’t want you to see. The gunshot, it might draw more of those things in, and I won’t have my last act on this Earth be putting your life in danger.” 

“Fine,” Carol agrees, her voice even but her ragged breath betraying her. She holds her elbows tighter. 

“Aight.” Merle claps his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road then.”

“Right now?” Daryl asks, as if he hadn’t come up this hill with Merle telling him exactly what to expect.

“Feel awful, baby brother,” Merle says. “We wait too much longer and I ain’t gonna be able to make it to the woods.”

“Right,” Daryl says in a small voice.

“Here, you round up the lil’ ones. I’ll handle tellin’ the others.” 

He doesn’t give them time to protest. He heads off towards the rest of the group, huddled around the tents, passing around some of the dry food Daryl and his friends scored at the Dollar Store. The second he’s out of sight, Carol turns to face Daryl, the tears she was holding back flowing now.

“ _ Daryl _ ,” she whispers, her voice so anguished he can’t pull her to him fast enough. He doesn’t have any words to offer her. All he can do is rock her in his arms for a solid minute, before she pulls back and scrubs at her face, as though disgusted at herself for her moment of weakness. 

“I’ll get Jesse,” she says. “Explain it to him the best I can. Can you try with Josie? She’s more likely to listen to you than me. I know she’s not gonna want to come, but if she doesn’t get to say goodbye…” 

“I know,” Daryl says, brushing a thumb over Carol’s wet cheek. “I’ll talk to her.” 

Burdened with the terrible task of telling their children they have to go with their uncle to say goodbye before he shoots himself in the head, they go their separate ways, Carol to Jesse, and Daryl to Josie.

Josie seems almost comatose when he settles in beside her. Daryl scratches Henry on the head, and the dog gives his hand a small lick, almost like he can tell something’s not right. Daryl tugs a weed up out of the ground and starts tearing it into strips, trying to think of how to go about this.

“Baby,” he says after the weed is torn apart and his fingers are coated in a thin layer of sap. “You don’t gotta say nothin’, but can you listen for a minute?” Josie doesn’t acknowledge him, but Daryl didn’t really expect her to. He trudges on. “Your Uncle is gonna die. He’s not gonna become a walker, ‘cause he’s gonna die before that happens. And I fuckin’ hate tellin’ you that, ‘cause it ain’t somethin’ a kid should hear, but you’re always two steps ahead of me anyways, and I told you that I’d tell you the truth, but the truth ain’t always gonna be happy.”

Josie hardly blinks.

“Your Uncle doesn’t want his friends to see him sick. He doesn’t want us to see it neither, but what we’re gonna do is go for a walk with him, into the woods, and find him a nice place to rest. To die. You remember how much your Uncle loves the woods, right? It’s like we’ll be takin’ him to his favorite place. And listen, I know you don’t wanna get up from here, I know that right now you’re havin’ a hard time sortin’ through all the things in your head and need the space, and I’ve always respected that, haven’t I? I’ve always told you it’s okay to feel things however you need to. But I need you to trust me right now. I need you to believe me when I tell you that if you don’t come with us to say goodbye to your Uncle it will be the wrong choice, and you’ll regret it, maybe forever. Do you know what regret means?”

The faintest furrow ghosts over Josie’s face, but she remains silent.

“It means doin’ somethin' and then later wishin’ you hadn’t. Or  _ not _ doin’ somethin’ and wishin' you had. Nobody is gonna force you to talk, but will you please come with us, at least? For you, so you don’t regret not comin’, but for your Uncle Merle, too. He needs to see you, baby. He needs to be able to say goodbye. You both do.”

Josie doesn’t do anything right away. Daryl waits patiently, fighting the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek or rub her back, knowing she’d find the touch suffocating. Finally, without a word, she sits up, pushing her hair out of her face, before getting to her feet. Henry lifts up his head, the tags on his collar jingling, and she takes a gentle hold of his collar. The dog gets the hint and stands beside her, waiting to be led wherever she wants him to go. 

“Thank you, baby girl,” Daryl whispers to his daughter, and he can’t say for certain, but he thinks he sees her nod.

*

They traipse through the woods and it seems to take forever, Merle leading them deep into the trees, refusing to risk bringing any unwanted visitors to the campsite with the noise of his pistol. Carol carries a lantern, and Daryl a flashlight, Merle too weak and shaky to hold anything. His steps are uneven and careless, twigs snapping under his feet and leaves crunching. Merle has always had a tendency to be loud, especially in his druggie days, but in the woods he’s always employed a stealth even Daryl envied, but the illness overtaking his body has stripped him of that, too. 

To make up for Merle’s lapses, Daryl pays especially close attention to their surroundings, training his ears towards the area around him, in case anything unsavory decides to come barreling out of the shadows. His knife is in his hand—he doesn’t even bother to keep it hidden from the kids—and he knows he has his own gun should he need it, but still he worries that if he lets his guard down for even a second his entire family will be at risk. 

Jesse gave Stew to Glenn to watch over, in exchange for his teddy bear, who he’s muttering to under his breath. Daryl catches bits and pieces of the one-sided conversation. “I know it’s sad, I’m sad, too,” he whispers to his bear. “But sometimes stories have sad parts ‘cause then it’s real nice when everything is happy again.” 

Josie, hand still clutching Henry’s collar, is following the directions they gave her about staying beside them, but only physically. Her mind is a million miles away. Or maybe it’s the exact opposite, and she’s taking in every little thing the way Daryl does, and that’s why it’s so hard for her to voice her thoughts, because how do you voice everything at once? Carol keeps glancing over at her, biting her lip. There’s always a part of Carol, Daryl thinks, that is always a little bit afraid that Josie won’t snap out of it.

“Here,” Merle says abruptly after they’ve walked some more. There’s nothing remarkable about this spot, or if there is Daryl doesn’t see it. The forest is dense out here, and insects are crawling around on the ground, and spiders are making webs in the tree branches. Merle lowers himself down on the ground, his back against a large rock. He rests his arms on his knees and looks up at them expectantly. “End of the road,” he says. His eyes are gaunt, his face pale, and his teeth are chattering, but he smiles anyway. “Come on now, let’s do this. I hate me some goodbyes, so the sooner we’re done the better.”

He’s being flippant, but Daryl can sense the underlying fear. 

Merle OD'd once, years and years ago. It hadn’t even been meth. Daryl came home to find him on the living room floor, foaming at the mouth, an empty pill bottle of opioids with someone else’s name on it tipped over on the coffee table. Daryl, who was too young to know what to do in this sort of a situation, knew what to do anyway, because he grew up faster than most. He’d kept a dose of narcan in his sock drawer for months, because it gave him some sense of comfort and control, but to actually use it put lightning in his belly. He’d dosed his brother, and watched the color come back to his face as he sucked in panicked breaths. Daryl had called 911, and in the hospital they filled his brother with activated charcoal, and his probation officer sent him to Narcotics Anonymous as if it would make a difference.

It didn’t occur to Daryl until after a year or two had passed that maybe that overdose hadn’t been an accident.

There is nothing Daryl can give his brother to save him now. Merle’s gonna put a gun in his mouth and there will be no question to whether or not it was on accident, and the only thing Daryl can do is allow it. It’s bullshit, Daryl thinks, for him to have the power to save his brother one day, and to be helpless on another.

“Here,” Carol says. She takes out a blanket she has rolled up under her arm, and drapes it over Merle, tucking it around him like she does for the kids at bedtime. “My thought at the time when grabbing this was that it would smell like all of us, and then I remembered you aren’t Henry being left at the vet needing a familiar smell to calm you down, but I had already grabbed it, plus it’s cold out, and…” She trails off, catching herself rambling. Merle takes her hand in his.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“Glad you like the familiar smells,” Carol says, and while he smiles at her joke, he shakes his head at her.

“Not what I mean,” he says. “I mean, thank you for everything. I ain’t never been much of a church goer, but you make me think there must be somethin’ up there, ‘cause you gotta be an angel in the flesh. You comin’ into my brother’s life was the single best thing that ever happened to either one of us. There ain’t no one else like you, doll, and it has been a privilege to know you.”

“You too,” Carol says, not able to fight her tears this time. She keeps Merle’s hand in an iron grip, adding, “And thank you for everything you’ve done to make sure you’re here for us. It’s not been easy, I know that. And a thank you won’t suffice for what you did for my daughter. You saved her life. I can’t repay that.”

“Yeah you can, and I’ll tell you how. Thing’s are a big ol’ mess right now, and I think it’s just gonna get messier. So here’s the only thing I’m gonna ask of you, and you can consider us even. When it gets hard—I mean so hard you can’t hardly stand it—promise me you’ll keep goin’, no matter what. Don’t let those demons in your head get you. And remember that it’s okay to find strength to get by in other people. That’s what you taught me, ain’t it? When you can’t do it for you…”

“Do it for them,” Carol finishes quietly. She ducks down and places a long kiss to Merle’s forehead, before backing away and letting the next person have their turn.

“Hey,” Merle says, holding a hand out to Jesse. “C’mere, kid.”

Jesse approaches him warily, his teddy bear practically being strangled he’s got his arm wrapped around its neck so tight. Before Merle can say anything, Jesse digs into his pocket and pulls out a poorly folded piece of paper.

“I had to draw it really fast, ‘cause momma said we had to go, but this is for you,” he says, handing the paper to Merle. Merle unfolds it with his shaky hands and looks it over in silence for several beats, bringing his lips in between his teeth like he’s trying to maintain his calm. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Daryl thinks he doesn’t trust himself to say it louder than that. He turns the picture around so Daryl and Carol can see it. It’s a drawing of Merle, Jesse, and Josie all holding hands and smiling. In big letters, Jesse has written, “DONT B SKARD UNKL MERLE WE LOVE U AND U WILL B OK AND U R THE BEST UNKL EVER.” 

A few of the letters are backwards, and his spelling could be improved, but Daryl knows exactly why it hits Merle so hard. Daryl isn’t unfamiliar with feelings of inadequacy, and he knows that his brother’s biggest fear over the past six years has been letting his niece and nephew down. But he hasn’t. He’s been there for them, and it was the hardest thing he had to do, but he managed, since his one slip up forever ago, to make the decision to do right by his family, from the moment he woke up, to the second he fell asleep every day, and Jesse’s note is tangible proof that he succeeded. 

“You’re special, you know that?” Merle asks Jesse then. “Ain’t no one else who sees the world like you do, and that’s a big deal. Don’t never let nobody take that away from you. You’re creative, and smart, and funny, and  _ so _ fuckin’ weird, and little boy, that makes you a prize and a half. I tell all my friends that I know the best artist ever. Tell ‘em he’s gonna be the next Picasso, ‘cept better. First time I held you, you was tiny and fragile, and I was scared shitless that I was gonna hurt you, but I didn’t wanna put you down, ‘cause I fell in love with you the second I met you, and I ain’t never stopped, Jesse. I ain’t never gonna stop. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” Jesse says, voice watery. He wraps himself around Merle easily. “I love you, too.” 

By the time Jesse backs away to stand by Carol, Merle looks like he’s about to fall apart. He takes a steadying breath and nods at Josie.

“Baby girl,” he says. “Please?” 

Josie stands stock still for several seconds, before loosening her grip on Henry’s collar and shuffling over to her uncle. She stands beside him, her head bowed. Merle doesn’t ask her to look at him. He knows her as well as the rest of them do.

“I know you don’t feel much like smilin’ right now,” he says to her. “But your smile is the first thing I remember whenever I think about you. Big chubby cheeks, not a tooth in sight, just beamin’ up at me like we’d known each other forever even though we had just met—that’s the smile I remember. Pissed your daddy off somethin’ awful, too, ‘cause you didn’t smile easy as a baby. Still don’t, matter o’ fact. But you smiled at me, little lady, and that’s a compliment I ain’t never forgotten.” He sighs, looking her up and down. “You know you’re named after a woman that I miss every day. She even looked like you. You got her eyes, both you and your daddy do. She was kind, and gentle, and yeah, she had her problems, but she meant well. And her life was cut too short. That happens sometimes, angel, I want you to understand that. Sometimes lives get cut too short, but that don’t mean the time you got wasn’t worth it, right?” 

Josie stares at the ground.

“You’re so damn smart, Josie, and I’m proud of you, but I want you to take a page outta your brother’s book and realize it’s okay to be a lil’ goofy, and to smile. Don’t misunderstand, I love you exactly the way you are, but I just want to make sure you’re happy. Bad things happen, but good things do too. You’re one of those good things for me. I hope I was one of ‘em for you.”

Josie grinds her teeth together, and, very slowly, takes a step towards Merle and puts her hands around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder blade. Merle blows out a breath and hugs her back. Then, stepping away, Josie lifts her head and gives Merle the tiniest of smiles. It takes all her effort, Daryl knows, because there isn’t a bone in her body that feels like smiling right now, but it’s for Merle. It’s a final gift for him, and Merle smiles back, and they communicate more between them than any words could ever say.

“Hey, I think I wanna do this last one alone,” Merle says once Josie is back with Henry. “Daryl and me, we got a few things to say that’s just between us, okay?” 

“Does that mean we’re leaving you now forever?” Jesse asks, face red with tears.

“It means you’re gonna go on livin’ with all the people who love you, and knowin’ that I love y’all too, no matter what,” Merle says. 

“C’mon,” Carol says gently to the kids, rallying them up to take them out of earshot. She casts a final glance at Merle, who gives her a wink. She lets out a sad laugh, and gives one back, before disappearing through the trees. 

And then it’s just Daryl and Merle.

Neither one knows how to start.

“Baby brother,” Merle says after the silence has dragged on a comically long time. “I’m not sure what even to say here. Got a million things I feel I should tell you and I’m scared Imma forget somethin’ important.”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’,” Daryl says. “I know it all.”

“Nah, see, I do though, ‘cause that’s how we done it our whole lives—sayin' nothin' and hopin' the other one understands. We got better at it, but we still ain’t the type to sit and have long talks about our feelin’s at the dinner table, and that’s fine. But that means that there are some things that still need to be said.”

“‘Kay,” Daryl says, kicking the dirt at his feet. “What things?” 

“The usual, I s’pose. That I love you. That I’m sorry for the years I wasted bein’ a fuck up. That I’m grateful for the chances you gave me. But most importantly, that I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” Daryl says, ducking his head, feeling like Josie with his tongue all tied and words backed up in his head.

“The life you made for yourself, little brother, is beautiful. There are a million ways you coulda fucked it all up, but instead you kept on doin’ all the right things. Our daddy did terrible shit to the both of us, and it turned me cold, but it never made you lose all that good inside you. You got so much good that you even managed to bring some out in me, ain’t that a fuckin’ trip? And those kids, man, those kids are incredible, and the daddy you became, right from the jump, is just...hell, man, I didn’t know daddy’s could be like that. That a husband could love and respect his wife like that. I’m your older brother, but you taught me more about life than I ever did for you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t better, but thank you for showin’ me the way.”

Daryl swipes at his eyes.

“Proud of you, too,” he mutters. “For stayin’ clean. For makin’ up for our past by bein’ there for me whenever I needed you for the past five or six years. And your love for my kids and my girl, and even for me, means more than you know. And what you did for Jojo...Carol’s right, Merle, that can’t be repaid. You gave yourself up to save her, and I just...thank you for saving my baby.” Daryl’s voice cracks on the last bit, and his breath comes out like a sob. 

“C’mere, man,” Merle says, motioning for him. Daryl gets down on his knees and hugs his brother in a way he never has, and for a moment, just that one moment, he’s that scared little kid he used to be, getting what he always wanted, which was his older brother to protect him.

“I love you,” Daryl says, standing back up. “Always will, alright? There ain’t no bad blood here—hasn’t been for years—so don’t you go outta this world thinkin’ you didn’t atone for anythin’. You made your life worth somethin’, and fuck it ain’t fair you don’t get to have more of it.”

“It’s alright, baby brother,” Merle says with the utmost sincerity. “You’re the reason I had a life worth livin’ in the first place, and I didn’t take a single moment of it for granted. Maybe this is how it ends, but it was worth it for the time I got.” 

“It ain’t fair,” Daryl breathes, still sounding like a little kid. 

“Nah,” Merle says. “But that’s just life. So just go and love your family like crazy, and protect ‘em with your everythin’, and no matter what happens, remember what you have is beautiful.” He shrugs, like he’s said everything he’s got. “There are worse ways to go, baby brother, and I never woulda thought that I’d make it outta this world without any regrets. Thank you. Thank you and I love you. It’s really as simple as that.”

*

They’re almost back to the hill when the muffled, yet unmistakable bang of a gun rumbles through the forest. Daryl stops in his tracks, sucking in a deep breath, and Carol clutches his arm, crying into his shirt. Jesse bursts into tears, likely before he even pieces together what happened, because his parents are crying and it’s putting that lightning in his belly.

Josie throws herself to the ground on her knees, bent all the way forward so her forehead is touching the dirt. She covers her ears and shakes her head back and forth vehemently.

“Baby, we gotta keep goin’,” Daryl says, putting a hand on her back, which she recoils from immediately. She springs back up to her feet and keeps her hands on her ears, backing away from Daryl.

“Okay, I'm sorry, I won’t touch you, but we can’t lose our shit here. We all gotta hold it together ‘til we get back.”

She mumbles something.

“What was that, honey?” Carol asks, lifting her face from Daryl, Mom Override kicking in just as Dad Override takes over Daryl.

“My fault,” Josie mutters. 

“What?” Daryl asks.

“My fault!” Josie shouts. “My fault. My fault. My fault.” 

“Oh sweetheart, no it wasn’t,” Carol says. “Don’t think that, please.” 

“My fault, my fault, my fault,” Josie keeps repeating, hands clamped over her ears. Carol looks to Daryl helplessly.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, patting Carol’s shoulder. He goes over and scoops Josie up into his arms, which she fights against, trying to wrestle out of his grasp, but he’s stronger than her, and she relents, deflating like a balloon.

They make their way back to the camp, Josie whispering an unending mantra of guilt into the crook of Daryl’s neck. Merle’s body lays lifeless somewhere behind them in the forest.

They don’t turn back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went into this chapter being like, "haha, gonna write some angst, love it!" and then apparently underestimated my attachment to these characters, bc i wrote that whole last bit while crying, and then i cried again when editing it. tf, brain? /i'm/ not the one you're supposed to emotionally compromise. rude af.
> 
> anyway, sorry if this made you sad. next chapter is when The Plot actually starts (only 40k in, smh), and i'm looking forward to that. i've bummed myself out, lmfao, so i'm gonna go do something to distract myself. love y'all, see you next week.
> 
> deuces,  
-diz
> 
> p.s. fun fact, i was torn on whether or not merle was gonna live or die, so i left it up to a vote to a couple friends, without telling them what they were voting for, and it ended up being a 2:1 he dies, so merle's blood isn't on my hands, it's on theirs 
> 
> (sorry fftc and juno)


	6. The Trolley Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with the understanding that i gave a sort of general cw a the beginning of this fic, i wanted to let you know that there's a brief gross gore thing at the end of this one that's grosser than some. just so you're not caught completely off guard

_ Daryl sits on a large, flat rock, knees drawn to his chest, crossbow sitting beside him. He twiddles a bolt in his hands taking in the sounds of the forest. Something scampers up a nearby tree—a possum, judging by the clack of nails on bark. A bird chirps above him, and another one replies. The two birds engage in a call-and-response.Sparrows, he can tell by the inflections. The breeze is blowing northwest from the coast, and Daryl can feel a cold front coming in. The temperature will drop, probably by tomorrow, and he’s glad they decided to go out today. Daryl hates being cold. _

_ A single twig snaps and Daryl is at attention in an instant. Through the brush comes Merle, back from a piss, and Daryl loosens up, the tight grip on his bolt he hadn’t even noticed going slack. _

_ “Heard a possum over there, wanna go for it?” Mele asks, coming over to Daryl and picking up the rifle he has leaning up against a tree trunk. _

_ “Do you know how much shit I got the first an’ only time I tried to convince Carol to eat possum?” Daryl asks. “Be a waste of energy and a needless kill. She an’ the kids wouldn’t go near it.” _

_ “Could give it to me. I ain’t about to throw out fresh meat,” Merle says, scoffing. He clambers down to the ground and lays his rifle across his lap. “You gotta teach them kids to be proper carnivores, baby brother. Get ‘em out here with us sometime.” _

_ “They’re four, Merle, let’s get them mastering not wetting the bed first, and then we’ll think about sendin’ ‘em into the woods to hunt,” Daryl says. He kicks a pinecone at his feet. “Dunno how’d they do, anyhow. Jojo pro’ly would be a decent shot, but she’d overthink it, and JJ wouldn’t think about it at all and pro’ly forget he was even s’posed to be huntin’. He’d get distracted by a cool leaf or somethin’.” _

_ “That kid would make friends with all the animals in the forest, and wouldn’t let you shoot Bambi.” _

_ “Ha, yeah, we don’t never let ‘em see fresh kills. Once he pieces together that the meat on his plate used to be cute and fuzzy I might end up with a vegetarian on my hands.” _

_ “God forbid. Though ‘member when he took a marker and drew faces on all the oranges and had a full-on conversation with ‘em? It’s a miracle you can get him to eat anythin’ at all.” _

_ “Love him to death, but Goddamn is he a weirdo,” Daryl says fondly. He digs in his pack for his water bottle and takes a swig. He tosses it to Merle, who catches it easily and does the same. A squirrel chatters a ways away, and a nearby spring trickles downhill. Merle runs a thumb around the cap of the water bottle, lost in thought. _

_ “What is it?” Daryl asks. _

_ “Strange, ain’t it?” Merle says. _

_ “What is?” _

_ “How different your kiddos’ childhoods are compared to ours. Can you imagine what it woulda been like if one o’ us told our daddy, ‘I don’t think Imma eat meat no more?’”  _

_ Daryl snorts at the thought. _

_ “He woulda beat us into next week and then tossed us out into the wilderness and told us to go find us some leaves to eat since we wanna live like fuckin’ rabbits.” _

_ “‘Too good for the meat I worked damn hard to put on this fuckin’ table?’” Merle says in a crude impersonation of their father, making Daryl laugh. _

_ “How often did he take you huntin’?” he asks. Merle shrugs, using a twig to dig a hole in the dirt. _

_ “Quite a bit early on,” he says. “Then tapered off into not at all after mom. Too far gone, I think; hardly went out even by hisself after the fire. You remember how fucked up he’d get. Meanest he ever was. Got the scars to prove it.” _

_ “I sorta remember,” Daryl says, furrowing his brow as he searches his memories. “Still was little, you know? I feel like I know he was yellin’ all the time, but it’s all sorta one big blur.” _

_ “Take my word for it, he was one mean mother fucker with mom gone. Least when she was around he’d lay off the dope when she got too fussed with him. Sobered up now and then as a show of goodwill. ‘Stead of flowers, he’d come tell our momma, ‘Never again, Josie, baby, promise you that.’ Usually after he’d gone off and given her a black eye or some shit.” _

_ Daryl twists his mouth, sitting his bolt to the side and leaning back on his hands. _

_ “You think he loved her?” Daryl asks his brother. Merle scoffs. _

_ “What do I look like, a shrink? Like I know what the fuck went on in that man’s head.” _

_ “I don’t mean do you think ‘underneath it all’ or whatever. I just mean, in his own way, do you think he loved her?” _

_ “Hmph,” Merle hums, tossing his stick. “Hell, I dunno. In his own way? Probably. Never was the same after she died. Don’t mean he was good for her, though. Don’t mean he was good  _ to _ her. Don’t think the man was capable of any real, genuine love, like you and Carol got. That disgusting romance novel shit.” _

_ “Romance novel shit?” Daryl asks, laughing. _

_ “Oh, for sure. Always eye fucking each other whenever you’re in the same room. Nah, not eye fucking. More like...eye love making.” Merle grins at Daryl choking on his own spit. “Y’all been married, what? Three years? Three years, two babies, and y’all still act like teenagers with a crush. Our daddy never looked at our momma the way you look at your wife.” _

_ “What way is that?” _

_ “Like you ain’t ever stopped bein’ surprised that she’s yours. Like just lookin’ at her face answers all the questions in the goddamn universe. Hell, there was that one time she got that stomach bug, and I came by to help with the kids, and she was on the couch with a fuckin’ puke bucket on her lap, hair all over the place, lookin’ like she ain’t showered in days, and you remember what you said to me?” Daryl shakes his head. “You said, ‘She’s fuckin’ superwoman. She’s been tryna handle the kids all day even when she’s feelin’ like shit, and God, ain’t she still beautiful as hell?’ Nah, baby brother, yours is the type of love they make movies about. Our daddy couldn’t never come close.” _

_ Daryl scratches an itch on his elbow. “You say I look like I ain’t ever stopped bein’ surprised by her, and that’s ‘cause I ain’t. Every day I wake up like, ‘how the fuck did I get so lucky to have this be my life?’”  _

_ “Dad would be so pissed to know how happy you are,” Merle says with a shit-eating grin. Daryl smirks. _

_ “Wouldn’t he though?” He casts a glance his brother’s way and regards him thoughtfully. “You ever thought about findin’ yourself a girl?” _

_ “Eh,” Merle says. He pulls out a cigarette and rolls it between his fingers. “Not really given it any serious thought. Not since that broad I told you about—that one from California? The one who baked like a goddamn goddess? Kinda feel like she was the best I’m ever gonna get.” _

_ Daryl frowns at his lap. _

_ “Don’t want you to be lonely, man,” he says. _

_ “I ain’t,” Merle says, and when Daryl doesn’t reply, he insists, “Hey. I ain’t.” _

_ Daryl searches his brother’s face. _

_ “You’d tell me if you were?” _

_ “I’d tell you,” Merle agrees. “But I ain’t, so stop your belly achin’. You ain’t the only one whose life’s brighter ‘cause of that damn woman of yours. Gave me a family. ‘Cause of y’all, girl or not, I ain’t never gonna be alone.” _

_ Daryl, giving a small smile of pride, says, “She really is superwoman, huh?” _

_ “Damn straight,” Merle says. He pops his cigarette in his mouth, pushes himself up, brushes off the seat of his pants, and Daryl knows their little moment has come to an end. Whatever, he’ll take it. It’s more than he ever would have gotten in the past. “C’mon.” Merle claps his hands together. “Let’s find us a buck so you can put food on that woman’s table. Gonna spend your whole life tryna give her everything she deserves. Never gonna be able to, o’ course—girl deserves more than any one man could give—but might as well start with a nice supper, right?” _

_ “Right,” Daryl mutters with a private grin. He shoulders his crossbow and gets to his feet, following his brother deeper into the woods. _

*

Daryl sits on a large, flat rock at the peak of the hill, overlooking the dark forest below. His crossbow is at his feet, positioned for quick access, and he’s stock still, listening to the sounds of the night.

An owl hoots in the distance, waking up and getting ready for its night of hunting. There’s scampering in the leaves of a fox far enough away to not be a problem. Hershel snores, not abrasively, but low and rhythmic with each breath. Someone keeps tossing and turning in their sleeping bag. Glenn, Daryl figures, given where the sound is coming from and the fretful way the man is moving. No one is crying—at least not loud enough to hear.

The muffled bang of his brother’s pistol keeps filling Daryl’s ears as he tries to focus on his surroundings.

From behind him comes the rustling of a tent; a zipper being pulled along the teeth and then closing back up. The footsteps that follow are familiar—the most familiar, and Daryl doesn’t even need to look up to know it’s Carol who’s now standing behind him. 

Wordlessly, she sits behind him on the rock and wraps her arms around his neck, draping her arms down his front. Daryl turns his head to plant a kiss on her shoulder.

“Are the kids—” he starts, but she quickly cuts him off.

“They’re both asleep. Josie finally calmed down and curled up with Henry,” she whispers. “Don’t worry.”

“Gonna anyway,” Daryl admits, and he feels Carol’s breath of laughter against his neck.

“Yeah, me too.” She nuzzles his hair, and in his ear, asks, “How you holdin’ up, baby?”

“I’m fine,” he says. He’s not sure if he’s ever been further from fine. Carol seems to know this, because she turns him gently to face her and places a hand on his cheek.

“Daryl,” she says simply, and Daryl isn’t sure how, but that single word cuts through all his barriers like butter. With no children around to activate his Dad Override, his lower lip trembles, and Carol pulls him flush against her. He rests his head against her bosom and cries softly. She offers no platitudes, nor does he ask for any. They don’t exchange any words at all. They don’t need to.

She strokes his back up and down, pressing soft kisses to his temple, and just like always, he’s surprised by her; by how completely she knows him, and how willing she is to care for him, and for the first time in a long time their love seems tenuous. It’s so easy, all of a sudden, to lose precious things.

“I love you,” he says to her when it feels right to speak again.

“I love you, too,” she returns.

“Please don’t leave me,” he says, shameless in the way he pleads. “I can’t hardly handle losing him but, I wouldn’t survive losing you.”

“Yes you would,” Carol tells him. “And I’d survive losing you, because we’d have to. It’d hurt like nothing ever has, but we’d have to, and so we would. But I don’t plan on going anywhere, baby.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

“You’re superwoman,” Daryl breathes against her chest. “Superwoman can’t die.”

“There you go, then,” Carol says with a smile in her voice. “I’ll be just fine, then.”

Daryl burrows into her, needing to be as close as possible.

“You saved his life just as much as you saved mine,” he tells her. She’s silent for a long time.

“We’re family,” she says finally. “That’s what family’s about.”

“Never used to be. Not for us.”

“We taught each other how to love,” Carol says. “All of us learned that from one another. It hurts, Daryl, I know it does—it does for me, too—but you know what that pain means?” 

“Hm?” Daryl asks, limp in her arms.

“That our family is full of love; that there’s so much love here that it’s hell to lose it. And at least he got to be a part of that. At least Auntie did.”

Daryl lets her hold him, the sounds of the night moving around them.

“He told me you made his life brighter,” Daryl says after a while. Carol hums wistfully.

“Good,” she says softly. “Because he did the same thing to mine.”

*

At some point the sun rises without Daryl realizing he’s been up long enough to see it. He sent Carol back to sleep a while ago with the promise that he’d wake someone to take over his watch, and he had truly intended to, but before he knew it a golden glow was peeking up along the horizon, stinging his dry, tired eyes. 

“You been out here all night?” 

Daryl glances up to see Rick hovering above him with a worried brow. Daryl shrugs, and Rick takes his non-answer as confirmation. Sighing, he lowers himself to the ground beside Daryl’s rock that’s officially making his ass sore, and stretches his legs out in front of him.

“Anything out there?” he asks. 

“No,” Daryl says, voice gravelly. 

“You think there will be?” 

Daryl shrugs again.

“Don’t know much of anythin’,” he mutters. “Wouldn’t put our guard down, though.”

“Trust me, I’m not about to,” Rick promises. When he blows out a breath it comes out in a light fog in the morning chill. There are rustling sounds, and both of them look over their shoulders to see Glenn stepping out behind a bush, expression grumpy. He approaches the other two and drops himself down to the dewy grass as well.

“Hate peeing outside,” Glenn says. “Pretty sure I got a bug bite in a delicate place.” 

In spite of himself, Daryl manages a laugh. He pats Glenn on the back sympathetically, and Glenn gives him a half smile, which fades as quickly as it comes. He sighs, looking out at the expanse of trees before them and shakes his head.

“How you doin’?” he asks, not turning to meet Daryl’s eye.

“Couldn’t even begin to tell you,” Daryl says honestly. “My brother shot himself in the head last night. What am I s’posed to do with that?” 

“No idea,” Glenn says, still staring out into the middle distance.

“How are Carol and the kids holding up?” Rick asks. “Josie seemed to be in a state last night. Heard her in your guys’ tent for a good hour at least.”

“God,” Daryl says, covering his face with his hands. “Kid broke my damn heart, you guys. My poor baby.” He drops his arms helplessly. “I’d almost rather her not say a word for days on end than hear her in so much pain.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Rick says. “We’ll just have to keep reminding her of that.”

“Jesse might be able to get through to her. She listens to him,” says Glenn.

“Yeah, but JJ is a baby, too, it ain’t his responsibility to take care of his sister like that,” Daryl says. “Kid deals with his feelings better than some adults most days, but I think he’s quick to put his own worries aside to make sure everyone else is okay, you know? Dummy kid, acting like he's grown.”

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re as young as they are,” Glenn says quietly. Daryl hums in agreement. 

“And all this shit is makin’ ‘em grow up even faster, and it’s bullshit. I wanted them to have a childhood, you know? Somethin’ me and...somethin’ we didn’t have growin’ up.”

“What’s happening right now isn’t some failing on you as a parent, Daryl,” Rick says, squeezing his friend’s knee. “There’s only so much that’s in your control.”

“I know,” Daryl says. “And that’s the hardest part of bein’ a daddy. No matter how hard I try to give ‘em the perfect life, there’s still all this shit that’s outta my hands.”

“You do the best you can,” Rick insists. “That’s gotta count for something.” 

Daryl hums non-committedly, picking dirt out from under his nails. He’s almost dreading his kids waking up, because he’s not sure he’s in a state to face them. At the same time, however, all he wants to do is hold them and make sure they never leave his sight. 

“We should figure out a plan,” Glenn says then.

“What do you mean?” Daryl asks.

“Like, is this where we live now? Out here on a hill with not nearly enough tent space to accommodate everyone we have? We have food, but half of it is junk we grabbed off the shelves at random. We should go through our supplies. Divvy up our weapons. Figure out where we go from here.”

Rick and Daryl exchange a look, not used to Glenn having such a “take charge” attitude. Daryl appreciates it, happy to once again have somewhere to direct his aimless, unpleasant feelings. He says,

“We’ll do inventory an’ see what else we may still need. Dunno how long we can stay out here, but it’s the safest place we got right now. Right?” He looks to Rick, who nods absently.

“Yeah,” he says, thinking. “At least until we can find something more permanent. We need to figure out the movements of these things—get a grasp on where they go and what draws them in. That’ll help us find shelter.”

“Do you think there are any actual refugee shelters out there? Functional ones?” Glenn asks. “Or is everything like Atlanta?”

“No clue,” Rick says. 

“Any safe havens, the big ones anyways, are gonna be in the cities. If not Atlanta, then Savannah. Montgomery, maybe. Nashville if we wanted to go north. Florida might have some places, but that’s a helluva trek. The coasts might be safer, though. No walkers comin’ in from the ocean.”

“Yeah, or maybe they swarm us right into the ocean,” Rick points out.

“I dunno about you guys, but I’d kind of rather get ripped to shreds by an undead monster than go to Florida,” says Glenn.

“Fair,” Daryl mutters.

“What about a military base? Fort Benning maybe?” Rick asks. 

“I worry that everyone else’s already thought of this shit, you know? Maxed ‘em out,” Daryl says.

“We could at least try,” says Glenn.

“Is it worth it to risk going somewhere crowded?" Rick asks. "I mean, if there was any kind of outbreak…”

“They’d be death traps,” Daryl finishes for him, feeling defeated. He huffs a breath out of his nose and looks over to his tent where he sees Jesse crawling out of it, rather ungracefully. Daryl tries not to laugh as Jesse gets his foot caught in the fabric of the tent and does an impressive, if not unnecessary, little somersault that Daryl isn’t convinced wasn’t purposeful. Jesse seeks him out and waves. Daryl, Glenn, and Rick all wave back.

“Hi, daddy,” Jesse says when he’s within earshot, immediately coming up and giving Daryl a big hug. His floofy mop of hair is plastered to his head on one side, and sticking straight up on the other, as he rubs sleep from his eyes with his fist. “Hi, Uncle Glenn. Hi, Uncle Rick,” Jesse tells the other two, giving them quick hugs too.

“Hey, squirt,” Glenn says, ruffling Jesse’s already wild hair, while Rick rubs his back. Daryl tugs Jesse back over gently and holds his elbows, looking him in the eye.

“Mornin’, baby boy. How you feelin’?” he asks his son quietly. Jesse twists his mouth, shrugging. His face is absent of his usual morning beaming. 

“Mommy is still sleeping. I was real quiet and did not wake her up, don’t worry. I think maybe she was up a long time because she is worried about Joey. Joey is sleeping too. I left my teddy bear and Captain Beef Stew with her to keep her company even though she has her own teddy and Henry. I don’t want her to yell no more. She was really upset about Uncle Merle, wasn’t she, daddy?” 

“Yeah, kiddo, she was, but that’s not what I asked. I asked how  _ you’re _ feelin’.”

“Oh.” Jesse screws his face up, thinking. “I swallowed a lot of watermelons,” he declares a minute later. Daryl suppresses a smile and brushes some crusty gunk off of his son’s cheek. 

“Gonna hafta explain that one to me, bud.”

“You know how watermelons are real heavy and one time I tried to pick one up at the store and it felled and splattered on the ground and you and mommy had to pay for it?” Jesse asks. Rick and Glenn both cover snorts up with coughs. 

“I remember that very well, yes,” Daryl says patiently.

“Well, that’s how my tummy feels. Like it has lots of heavy watermelons in it. And when I think about Auntie Barb, or Michonne’s mommy, or Uncle Merle it gets more watermelons.”

“No lightning today?” Daryl asks.

“There are too many watermelons for lightning,” Jesse says. A couple tears well up in his eyes, but he wipes them away easily. “Are you okay, daddy?” he asks then. “Uncle Merle is your brother, like Joey is my sister, and if Joey got sick like that I think I wouldn’t feel too good.” 

Daryl glances at Rick and Glenn. Rick casts his gaze to the ground, and Glenn puckers his lower lip out.

“It doesn’t feel too good, you’re right,” Daryl says to Jesse. “But can I tell you somethin’ important?” 

“Mhm.”

“C’mere.” Daryl lifts Jesse up onto his lap. The little boy immediately rests his head against his father’s chest in unwavering trust and comfort—an act that always melts Daryl a little. “Your momma and me? We’re gonna feel bad feelings, ‘cause bad things are happenin’. Your Uncle Glenn and Uncle Rick are too, right?” Daryl looks to his friends expectantly, and they nod. “And it’s okay for you to worry about us, ‘cause we’re your family and you love us, but that don’t mean it’s your responsibility to make sure everyone’s okay. Even Jojo. That’s my job. Your momma’s job. Babies don’t take care of parents, alright? That ain’t how that’s s’posed to work. You feel however you gotta feel, and let us take care of you. Can you do that?” 

Jesse plays absently with a button on Daryl’s shirt.

“When everyone else is sad it makes the watermelons in my tummy feel like they might go splat like the one at the grocery store.” To illustrate his point, Jesse waves his hands and makes a wet splattering noise. Daryl, Rick, and Glenn all smile at him.

“You know what, kid?” Glenn says, nudging Jesse’s knee.

“Hm?”

“Sometimes it’s okay to let the watermelons go splat.” 

“It’s true. Might free up some room in there,” Rick agrees, nodding at Jesse’s belly. Jesse ponders this and then looks at Daryl questioningly. Daryl nods.

“They ain’t lyin’, baby. You gotta take care of you.” 

Jesse holds a big breath, his cheeks puffing out, and then blows it all out in a big rush. 

“I don’t want Auntie Barb and Uncle Merle to be dead anymore, daddy,” he says in a small voice, genuine tears spilling over and down his chubby cheeks. Daryl holds his son tight, resting his forehead against his.

“Me either, kid,” he whispers, rocking him gently. “God, I don't either.”

*

_ (5:09p) *What’s your answer to The Trolley problem?* _

_ (5:11p) -u mean tht shit from english class?- _

_ (5:11p) -my answer is y do we gotta talk abt philosophy i thot we were just sposed 2 read books- _

_ (5:14p) *You’re just salty bc she’s making us do a philosophical analysis paper over one of the texts we’ve read this year.* _

_ (5:16p) -duh- _

_ (5:17p) *Ok, but what’s your response?* _

_ (5:19p) -my answer is id jump out of the trolley onto the tracks n run over myself so i wudnt have 2 write any dumb papers- _

_ (5:23p) *Bro.* _

_ (5:25p) -yeah yeah ok- _

_ (5:25p) -idk its annoying its a trick question- _

_ (5:27p) *That’s the point. You either kill five people or one person, which one do you choose?* _

_ (5:29p) -ig the five ppl- _

_ (5:31p) *Yeah? Why that one?* _

_ (5:33p) -cuz the trolley is out of control rite? n thts out of my control but if i pull the switch then im a murderer n thts more wrong- _

_ (5:35p) *Are you not murdering the five people by /not/ pulling the switch?* _

_ (5:37p) -idk??- _

_ (5:37p) -i h8 these dumb questions things shud just be rite or wrong n u shud b able 2 tell the difference- _

_ (5:38p) *Lol! Spoken like a true critical analyst.* _

_ (5:39p) -smdh wuts ur answer then?- _

_ (5:41p) *Pull the lever. Duh.*  _

_ (5:42p) -y so sure?- _

_ (5:45p) *It’s basic “needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” shit.* _

_ (5:48p) -k but wut if the 1 person is some1 u kno?- _

_ (5:50p) *Oh ho! Are we getting philosophical now, Mr. Dixon?*  _

_ (5:51p) -lol no but u got all uppity abt ur answer so now i gotta fite u on it- _

_ (5:53p) *Lmao dick. Ok, do I like the one person?* _

_ (5:54p) -mhm u like the 1 person n the others r strangers- _

_ (5:56p) *Hm. I’d let the trolley hit the five in that case.* _

_ (5:58p) -ok how does tht make any gd sense? so the needs of the many dont apply if u like the person?- _

_ (6:00p) *It’s a matter of loyalty. My preference is to minimize the damage, but at the end of the day, if I’m damned either way, I’m keeping the person who’s significant to me alive. Loyalty and love > overarching philosophical bullshit.* _

_ (6:01p) -glad 2 kno tht if its michonne or maggie or me or henry or smthn tht ud save us ig- _

_ (6:02p) *Oh, it’s you on the other track? Well in that case I’m pulling the lever even if there isn’t anyone in front of me. Make myself a Daryl pancake.* _

_ (6:04p) -lmfao fuk off asshole- _

_ (6:04p) -just 4 tht im not proofreading ur french paper- _

_ (6:05p) *Nooo! I take it back! I prefer waffles anyway!* _

_ (6:07p) -2 lil 2 late shuda thot abt tht b4 turning me into a pancake  _ _ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _ _ - _

_ (6:09p) *What have I done?* _

_ (6:10p) -told u philosophy is stupid- _

_ (6:11p) *Wise as always. Maybe you can write about this in your paper.* _

_ (6:12p) -jfc- _

_ (6:12p) -just run me over instead- _

*

In the trunk of the van, Daryl does more organizing, mentally sorting through the supplies he has and what they’re missing to report back to Rick. He comes across his little black lockbox, and he hesitates a moment, ghosting a hand over it, before putting in the combination and popping it open. For a few passing seconds he does nothing but observe the items without touching them, the contents feeling like relics of the past, instead of stuff he took out of his closest less than a week ago. 

The glint of one of the Greek coins catches his eye, and he picks it up gingerly between two fingers, eyeing the powerful Athena carved into it. He pushes items aside until he finds Jesse’s labyrinth coin, and holds them both in the palm of his hand. He traces them lightly with the pad of his index finger, feeling both dissociated from the coins, and inexplicably linked to them. The trip where he found them is like a different lifetime, but the meaning held within them seems especially potent right now. Without giving himself time to overthink it, he puts the coins in his pocket to join his Gorgon. 

He locks the box back up, and returns to the task at hand, counting the number of AA batteries he has stashed in his emergency kit, when the unmistakable sound of human footsteps trampling through the forest brush hits his ears, and in an instant the pistol tucked away in the back of his jeans is in his hand and pointed toward the trees. Another few noisy footsteps later, Daryl is faced with two strangers tumbling out into the clearing. They notice Daryl immediately and stop in their tracks, hands flying up in surrender. 

It’s a man and a woman, both sweaty and exhausted. The woman has a travel pack strapped to her back, and both of them are out of breath. The woman has tangled, blonde hair, plastered to her moist face, and the man is tall, with broad shoulders that are almost disproportionate to his lean frame. They’re not much older than Daryl—early thirties at most, but late twenties more likely. They’re covered in dirt and dried, copper-colored blood.

“Please don’t shoot,” the woman says, voice trembling, half an octave away from hysterical. “We aren’t bit, I swear. You can check us over.”

Daryl doesn’t lower his gun. He doesn’t do anything, in fact, stuck between two conflicting impulses: Help these two strangers clearly in need, or tell them to turn back the way they came and get the hell away from him and his family.

“Sir, please,” the man says. His voice is level, and he’s holding a hand out in front of him as though to placate Daryl. He gestures at himself. “I’m Clyde. This is my wife Aga. We’ve been on the run for nearly two days from the Dead Ones. We’re low on food and water, haven’t slept, and have been through...well, you don’t even know what we’ve been through.”

At this vague comment, the woman—Aga—shuts her eyes and gives herself a slight shake, as though trying to steady herself. Daryl looks from one to the other.

“Where are you from?” he asks. 

“Forty five minutes west of Savannah,” Clyde says. “We’re making our way to Atlanta.”

Daryl shakes his head.

“City’s overrun, there ain’t nothin’ but a graveyard full of the walking dead up there.”

“We know, but we’re trying to get to the CDC,” Clyde explains. Daryl furrows his brow.

“The CDC?”

“The Center for Disease Control.”

“Know what it is. Why you goin’ there?”

“We figured that if anyone is working on a cure for this thing it’d be them. Maybe they’ve come up with something but can’t let the public know with all communication lines down.”

“Think that’s likely?” Daryl asks, gun still aimed. Clyde shrugs helplessly, while his wife stares at the ground.

“What else are we supposed to do?” he asks. 

Daryl doesn’t have a good answer for that. After all, what are he and his family doing besides trying to find something worth doing? He’s debating bringing the gun down to his side, when a voice from up the hill makes him stiffen.

“Daddy?” Jesse calls for him. “Daddy, Mr. Hershel wants to talk to you.”

Aga, who seemed to have retreated in on herself, suddenly becomes alive again. Her head springs up, eyes wide, as she asks, “You have a child here?” Daryl swallows, knowing it’s pointless to deny it since there very obviously is at least one child among them, but not wanting to say regardless.

“JJ, stay up there and tell Uncle Rick to come down here,” Daryl calls over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the strangers. He hears Jesse yell back some sort of assent, and Daryl ignores the ache in his arm from holding it out and steady for this long.

“How old is he?” Aga asks, straining her neck, as though trying to see past Daryl and up the steep hill to catch a glimpse. Daryl steels himself, any soreness in his arm forgotten.

“Don’t worry about him,” he says flatly. 

“Do you plan to shoot us?” Clyde asks. “Is that what this world has come to already?” 

Daryl has no intentions of killing anybody, but this is a secluded spot in the woods where in all these years he’s never seen anyone except the people he’s explicitly brought here. All the supplies they have to get by for the next who knows how long is here on display, as is his family, which is invaluable. He’d be foolish not to execute caution. Right?

“What’s going on?” Rick calls out, heading down the hill, and Daryl sighs in relief.

“That’s my friend,” Daryl tells his unwanted visitors. “He’s a cop. He’ll figure this out.” 

Rick gets within eyesight of Daryl and, upon seeing him pointing a gun at strangers, immediately pulls out his own pistol and aims it as well, no questions asked.

Well damn, at least he can bank on Rick’s loyalty.

“Really?” Clyde asks, growing frustrated. “You say your friend’s a cop. Is this how he treats everyone he meets? Like they’re criminals? _We_ _haven’t done anything to you_.”

“Daryl?” Rick asks, coming up beside him, keeping his gun arm fixed on Clyde and Aga.

“They came out from the treeline,” Daryl explains in an undertone. “Says they’ve been runnin’ from the walkers. Tryna make their way up to Atlanta, ‘cause the CDC’s up there. They ain’t hurt me or threatened me or nothin’, but it didn’t feel right to just let ‘em…” He trails off, not sure how to justify his impulsive act of holding seemingly innocent people at gunpoint. 

_ Never aim a gun at something you don’t intend to shoot. _

Isn’t that gun safety rule number one?

He goes to lower his weapon, feeling foolish all of a sudden, but Rick gives him an imperceptible shake of the head, and he changes his mind, feeling vindicated.

“I don’t want y’all to think we aren’t decent folk,” Rick says, putting on his cop voice that Daryl has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at. “But you have to understand that things haven’t exactly been typical these past few days. We’ve had some pretty serious things happen to us, and we’re all on edge, and I think it’s in the best interest of everyone if you two turn yourselves around and go find someplace else to make camp.” 

Reasonable enough. See, Daryl thinks, this is why diplomacy should never be his purview. 

“We have nowhere else to go,” Clyde says, desperation hanging off of every word.

“What are you talking about? There’s a whole forest out there for the taking. We should have no problems avoiding each other’s paths. We don’t want any trouble, and I’m sure you don’t either, but we have vulnerable people we need to keep safe here.”

“Like that child?” Aga asks. Daryl gives Rick a sidelong glance, who returns it with a set jaw.

“We need you to go.”

“Can you spare anything?” Clyde asks. “Food? Water, at least. We slept in a rotted tree house we found last night. Almost fell right through the floor. Our town is overrun. We have nothing.”

“What’s in your pack?” Rick asks, gesturing with his gun to the large travel pack on Aga’s backs. “Seem pretty full to me.”

“Clothes,” Aga says quickly, staring Rick in the eye.

“Clothes,” Clyde agrees. “A few mementos. A flashlight or two. Nothing we’re gonna cook over a fire.” He drops his arms and holds them out to his sides, palms facing out, seeming at a loss. “Can we at least join you for supper?”

“Rick,” Daryl mutters. Rick looks at him, and Daryl gestures for him to come talk to him in private. 

“Don’t try anything,” Rick says to Clyde and Aga, following Daryl a few steps away, walking backwards and keeping the duo at gunpoint. When they’re out of earshot, Rick whispers, “What are you thinking?”

“Was hopin’ to ask you that,” says Daryl. “Fuckers seem harmless enough, but…”

“You’re worried about bringing them around the twins.”

“I’m worried about bringing them around anyone. We got a lotta supplies, and we don’t know ‘em from Adam. Still, it don’t feel right to just turn ‘em away.”

Rick bites his lip, staring the duo down like he’s waiting for the answer to simply reveal itself to him.

“There’s also the fact that they know where we’re at now,” Daryl continues. “Be real easy for them to come back when it’s dark an’ try an’ hold us up. If they was here we could keep an eye on ‘em.” 

“That’s true,” Rick agrees. “But are we gonna have someone on them twenty-four seven? They gonna be our prisoners?”

“Fuck man, I dunno,” Daryl says with a huff. “I don’t wanna condemn nobody to death, but my babies are up that hill. My wife.” 

“I know. I’m not feeling great about putting Michonne at risk either.”

“Least Michonne has a sword. The fuck is up with that, by the way?”

“Is now the time?”

“Right, sorry.”

“Here,” Rick says slowly. “What if we have them eat supper with us, let them stay until first light tomorrow, give them a meal and maybe a few bottles of water for the road, and then send them off? That way we can get a better feel for them as people, so if they  _ do _ come back to try and fuck with us we have a better idea of what we’re working against.”

“Study the enemy?” Daryl asks doubtfully. Is every new person going to be an enemy now?

“You have a better idea?” Rick asks, and Daryl sighs.

“Nah. I don’t.” 

“We won’t put our guard down, alright? We’re all packing, and neither of them have tried to pull any weapons. Plus,” he says with a grin. “My girlfriend has a sword.”

Daryl grants him a small laugh, before nodding in reluctant agreement. They walk back over to the duo. Clyde is watching them with a steady annoyance, arms slack at his sides, while Aga holds herself with her gaze fixed on the ground.

“We’ll give you a meal and you can stay in our camp for the night,” Rick says levelly. “But then you have to leave.”

“Thank you,” Clyde says.

“But understand this: We have people to protect.” Rick takes a step, holding his gun a little closer to the pair. “Try anything? We won’t hesitate.” 

*

“I don’t like this,” Carol says quietly from beside Daryl. She picks at a can of ravioli, eyeing Clyde and Aga with distrust. 

“Me neither,” Daryl agrees. “But I trust Rick’s judgement.” He finishes the last of his own ravioli can and sits it down by his feet, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. Carol hums non-committedly. 

“Why does she keep looking at Jesse like that?” she asks. Daryl had noticed that too. Aga is next to her husband, curled in on herself as though trying to make herself as small as possible, picking at her food like a bird. But every few seconds she casts a glance at Jesse, who’s sitting on a log with Glenn talking animatedly about whatever it is he talks about, Josie on the dirt beside them feeding her food to Henry, paying no one any mind.

“I dunno. She was real weird when she found out there was kids with us. Maybe she just likes kids?” Daryl asks, and Carol raises an eyebrow at him.

“You really believe that?” she asks. Daryl twists his mouth, kicking his empty can over with the toe of his boot.

“No.”

“I don’t either. And what’s with her pack? She won’t even leave it with her husband. She took it with her to take a piss, I saw her.”

Sure enough, Aga has her travel pack plastered at her side, hugging it with one arm, reminiscent of the way Jesse does with Stew’s cage. 

“It’s just for the night,” Daryl tells his wife. “They said they was goin’ to the CDC, so hopefully they’ll be out of our hair completely and we won’t ever hafta see ‘em again.” 

Carol takes a long drink of water, eyes narrowed in Clyde and Aga’s direction.

“Hopefully,” she says. Daryl squeezes her shoulder and goes to stand.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells her. She nods absently, and Daryl walks around the fire, over to Jesse and Josie. 

“And my pirate ship is gonna get a new flag, I’m gonna draw it when it’s not dark out anymore, and oh hi daddy,” Jesse says, cutting his own sentence off, forgetting about Glenn entirely to focus his attention on Daryl. Glenn and Daryl exchange quick smiles, and Daryl squats down in front of the twins. Josie glances up at him briefly, but doesn’t say anything. The only thing he’s heard her say today was, “Good dog,” when Henry caught a particularly tricky ball throw when they were playing fetch.

“Hey guys,” Daryl says. “I found somethin’ earlier that I wanted to give to y’all.”

“Like a present?” Jesse asks, perking up.

“Mhm.”

“Is it neat rocks like what Joey gave me for my birthday?”

“Ah, not quite,” Daryl says with a soft smile. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the two Greek coins he stuffed in there earlier. Jesse is on the edge of his seat, brimming with curiosity, and even Josie stops giving away all her supper to the dog to watch Daryl, her head partially bowed. Daryl splays his hand out to reveal the two coins.

“Is that money?” Jesse asks, tilting his head, leaning forward to examine the coins.

“Kind of. It’s really, really old money.”

“Like from when Mr. Hershel was a baby?” Jesse asks, and Glenn covers his mouth, trying and failing to muffle his snort. Daryl breathes a quiet laugh, and gives Jesse a pat on the knee.

“Even older than that. You were too little to remember, but we’ve told you before how momma and me went to Greece, right?”

“Yeah, for your honeymoon. Did you know bees make honey? Do bees come from the moon and that’s why it’s called that? What does that have to do with being married?” 

At his feet, Josie gives a small, irritated huff.

“Focus, dude,” Glenn tells Jesse, nudging him in the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” Jesse says. “I ‘member you went to Greece. Did you know Greece is next to Turkey? Not the Thanksgiving food, the country. Did you go to Turkey, too?” Josie cranes her neck to look up at her brother with a face that clearly asks,  _ how the fuck did you know that? _ , to which Jesse replies, somewhat smugly, “I saw it in a book. With  _ pictures _ .” Josie rolls her eyes and turns away.

“Actually, yeah we did, but only the airport,” Daryl says, thinking about how exhausted and out of it he had been wandering around a foreign airport trying to figure out where the hell their gate was. If only that was all he had to worry about now.

“Do we get to know what the deal is with these coins, or…?” Glenn asks.

“Oh, sorry,” Daryl says this time, and Glenn shakes his head fondly. “Well, when we were in Greece, your momma and me went into this shop where this weird lady had a big ol’ tub of these really, really old coins, and she helped us pick two of them out special—one for both of you.”

“How are they special?” Jesse asks. Josie scratches Henry behind the ear but keeps an eye on Daryl, too.

“Well, this one is yours,” Daryl says, handing Jesse his coin. Jesse takes it and starts looking it over immediately. 

“I like the funny square thingy,” he says, tracing his finger around the engraving. “It looks like a maze from the coloring sheets they have at Rosemarie’s diner.”

“That’s kinda what it is. The lady who gave us that coin, she said it’s called a labyrinth, and that it’d be good for you to have ‘cause you got a funny lil’ mind that would help you find the way out of tricky situations, and she was right. Things are real scary and dangerous right now, but you hold onto that coin and remember that you know how to find your way out of trouble, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jesse says, staring at the coin like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. 

“That don’t mean you get to go  _ lookin’ _ for trouble, though,” Daryl amends quickly.

“This kid?” Glenn asks. “No way.” Daryl shoots him a glare.

“What’s Joey’s coin?” Jesse asks.

“Jojo’s coin is of the goddess Athena,” Daryl says, holding Josie’s coin out to her. After a beat, she reaches out and takes it from him. She holds it between her index finger and thumb and inspects it. She then blinks up at him expectantly. 

“Athena,” Daryl says. “Was real important in Ancient Greece. She’s the goddess of wisdom. She was real clever like you are, baby girl, good with logic. She was a warrior. Jesse’s coin is to remind him that he’s creative and can see shit other people can’t, and yours is to remind you that you’re smart as hell, and can use your brain to keep yourself safe.” 

Josie searches the goddess in the war helmet with intensity. 

“Was she brave?” she asks quietly, and Daryl’s heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice.

“Sure she was,” he says. She looks up at him then, with blue eyes that match his own.

“Am I brave, too?” she asks. Daryl smiles gently, pushing Josie’s long, dark hair—loose from its usual braid—back behind her ear.

“Yeah, baby, you’re real brave. Both of you are.” He nods purposely at Jesse.

“Bravest kids I ever met,” Glenn agrees. 

“That’s pretty cool, huh, Joey?” Jesse asks his sister, who nods absently. She closes her fist around the coin and holds her hand to her chest.

“Thank you, daddy,” she whispers. 

Daryl can’t help himself from putting an arm around his daughter’s shoulder and giving her a side hug, kissing the top of her head.

“Love you, baby,” he tells her under his breath. “My lil’ warrior.”

*

After a fitful few hours of sleep, Daryl gets out of his sleeping bag and goes to relieve Rick from watch, insisting that at least one of them should get some rest. He takes his spot on his flat rock and focuses immediately on Clyde and Aga, curled up together a ways away from the tents, buried under some sleeping bags and blankets they were able to spare. They aren’t asleep; Daryl can hear them muttering to each other, but can’t make out what they’re saying. In the moonlight and the last of the embers of the fire, Daryl can tell that Aga’s pack is in between the two of them.

He’s lost in thought, cycling through different ideas on what exactly their deal is, when a small hand on his elbow scares the shit out of him. He turns abruptly, already reaching for his crossbow, until he realizes it’s Josie standing beside him, looking startled by his reaction, although not all that apologetic. 

“Jesus Christ, Jojo,” Daryl says, letting go of his crossbow and reminding his heart how to beat. “What are you doin’ up?” She shrugs, and Daryl sighs, gesturing for her to climb onto his lap, which she does, facing out, leaning her head back against his chest. He holds her like that, taking her hands in his, and stroking her soft skin with his thumb.

“Couldn’t sleep neither, huh?” he asks, and he feels her shake her head. A million Dad Things come to mind, wanting to reprimand her for not sleeping, or for hardly eating her supper, but to what end? Intead, he tilts his head towards their not-so-welcome visitors and asks, “What do you think’s up with them?” 

“They’re mad at each other,” Josie says quietly. Daryl cranes his neck to see her face and furrows his brow.

“How do you figure?” he asks.

“I heard them after supper,” she says, speaking more than she has since her breakdown the night before, and even then that was the same two words over and over again. “Clyde wants Ada to get rid of her backpack.” 

Daryl frowns at the couple across the way.

“Did he say why?” 

“He said it wasn’t good for her.”

“What wasn’t good for her?” Daryl asks, and Josie shakes her head again.

“Dunno. Pro’ly whatever she has in her backpack. Maybe a lot of sugary snacks?” 

Daryl laughs softly, nuzzling his daughter’s head.

“Maybe,” he says.

They lapse into an easy silence, Daryl more comfortable with it now that Josie’s shown she’s willing to talk. They’re still going to need to address the Merle-sized elephant in the room, but for now he’ll take what he can get.

Ten or so minutes pass, Josie awake but resting in Daryl’s arms, when suddenly Ada pulls herself free from the mess of sleeping bags and blankets, clutching her travel pack tight to her chest. She stalks off in a huff, headed down the hill. Clyde pops up a second later, hurrying after her. He glances Daryl’s way and waves a dismissive hand, going down the hill without explanation. Josie turns to look at Daryl, and Daryl shakes his head.

“Dunno what that’s about,” he says to his daughter’s unasked question. “Gonna go find out, though. You go back to the tent, okay?”    
  


Josie frowns.

“I wanna go with you,” she says.

“No,” Daryl says firmly. “I don’t trust those two much, and I don’t want you near ‘em. Go on. Try and get some sleep.” 

He lifts Josie off his lap, ignoring her huff of irritation, and picks his crossbow up. He gives his daughter’s shoulder a squeeze, before getting to his feet and heading to the edge of the hill, where down near the bottom he can just make out Ada and Clyde fighting over something. The pack, Daryl figures. He does a mental count of his weapons—crossbow in his hands, knife in the front of his belt, and pistol tucked in the back of his pants—and starts down towards them. 

“Let go,” Ada is hissing at Clyde, tugging on the pack.

“This isn’t the way,” Clyde is saying, tugging back. “I’ll fix it for you. I promise I’ll fix it for you, but you can’t do this.”

Clyde gets the upper hand, yanking the pack out of his wife’s hands and tossing it, unintentionally a few feet in front of Daryl. Daryl hesitates, not sure if he should move towards it or not. Before he can make a decision, Ada screeches, lunging for it, but Clyde grabs her and shoves her back bodily.

“ _ No, _ ” he says with an air of finality. Ada looks about ready to go nuclear, but just before she bursts, she turns on her heel and storms off to the passenger side of Daryl and Carol’s van, yanking the door open and climbing inside, slamming it behind her, and Daryl pauses, hackles raised in an instant. 

It’s then that Clyde realizes he’s being watched. He turns to face Daryl, chest heaving.

“She’s having a hard night,” Clyde says by way of explanation, taking a few tentative steps towards him, and Daryl’s hand tightens around his crossbow. 

“How’d she get in my car?” he asks. “It should be locked.”

“Well apparently it wasn’t,” Clyde says. 

“No, I’m pretty damn sure it was,” Daryl insists. He has a habit of triple checking his locks. He reaches down to pat his pocket and realizes his keys aren’t there. Pursing his lips, his attention falls on the travel pack in front of him. He moves towards it, but Clyde protests.

“I wouldn’t,” he says, which doesn’t do anything to ease Daryl’s suspicions. He takes another couple steps, and when Clyde makes no move to stop him, he squats down and takes hold of the zipper with one hand.

What hits him first is the smell. His sense memory immediately reminds him of the time he’d happened upon a deer carcass several days old, maggots feasting on its flesh, but this is an even stronger odor. 

Then he sees the face staring back at him, jaw slack, eyes open and lids uneven; skull pierced through at the temple, coagulated blood sticking to the blonde hair around the puncture wound. It takes several seconds to process the image, and when he does, he realizes he’s looking into the dead eyes of a little boy no older than his own children.

“Oh my god,” Daryl says, immediately tossing the pack away from him, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“I told her it wasn’t healthy to take him around with us like this,” Clyde is saying, walking closer to Daryl. Forgoing the crossbow, Daryl sits it to the side and opts instead for his pistol, clicking the safety off and raising a shaking arm at Clyde.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Daryl asks him.

“What was I supposed to do?” Clyde asks, gesturing his arms out in defeat, coming even closer, one slow step at a time. “She refused to bury him.”

“I don’t give a fuck where you go, but y’all need to get away from me and my family.” 

“She’s destroyed. Absolutely destroyed. And then we find you people. More than that, we find  _ you _ . You and your wife. And we saw that you have not just one child, but  _ two _ , both alive and well. It hurt her even worse. It’s like watching someone rolling in riches while you starve to death.”

“Come one more step, I fucking dare you.”

Clyde stops his advance, but is still too close for comfort. His eyes flicker to something behind Daryl. Instinctually Daryl follows his gaze, and a split second later a loud bang echoes through the trees, and a searing pain radiates through his left thigh, causing him to collapse into the ground in a heap.

“Daddy!” 

Daryl’s frantic eyes land on Josie, who must have followed behind him to see the action, despite his explicit instructions to the contrary. She’s standing stock still, staring at him.

“Josie, get the fuck out of here,” Daryl yells at her, waving her away while trying to get to his feet, but the pain in his leg won’t let him. He glances down and sees a hole in his jeans and blood seeping out of it. He turns back to Clyde, who’s holding a gun in his hand. It’s one of Daryl’s—one of the ones he’d left in the trunk of the van he’s certain he locked.

The two men lock eyes for a solid three seconds, before Clyde makes a sudden lunge at him. 

Having dropped his gun when he fell, Daryl pats the ground around him, searching for it. His hand finds the grip, right as Clyde comes up on him. Daryl tries to aim, but before he can, Clyde smacks him across the head at full strength with the hard metal of his own pistol, and Daryl tumbles back, momentarily blacking out.

Half-conscious, he hears a struggle somewhere behind him, and realizes with horror that his daughter is making noises of protest. He puts everything in him to come back into focus, forcing his eyes open just in time to see Clyde pause above him, clutching a squirming Josie in his grip.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t malicious, but I have to fix this for her. You still have one, I’m leaving you with one. Be thankful for that.” 

“Daddy, help!” Josie is yelling for him, but he’s seeing double, his head throbbing, and he can’t lift his head. God fucking damnit, why can’t he lift his head?

A car door slams, the ignition firing up, and the last thing Daryl hears is the sound of car tires squealing and then barreling away like a bat out of hell. His vision tunnels, and all at once goes dark. The hole the bullet left in his jeans ripped through his pocket, and on the grass stained red with his blood lies a small, circular pendant.

The Gorgon, face up, seen only by the moon above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idec that this is a day late, i was having so much fun with it, i got sucked in and it took longer because i was feelin' it. plot is happening! 50k in and we're finally hitting the plot! (jfc @ me).
> 
> btw, i wanted to give a general thank you to y'all who have been reading regularly, because it occurred to me that this story has morphed into something really weird, and focuses really heavily on these oc's of mine, which, while they're technically caryl related, aren't exactly caryl, you know? and it means a lot to me that you're willing to indulge me. the fact that anyone cares about those stupid twins at all is very flattering, and i want you to know i appreciate it a lot. and if you've stuck with me this far through all my nonsense, then god bless you. and as things get darker, never feel bad for bailing, i will never hold it against you.
> 
> anyway! 
> 
> i was so emotionally compromised last chapter that i didn't even do the memoriam, so first on the list today iiiiis:
> 
> -merle :(((  
and then  
-travel pack lil' kid corpse. uh. sorry for that one
> 
> until next week, babes,
> 
> -diz


	7. Broken Promises

The first thing that happens to Daryl as he starts to come to is he feels a searing pain in his left leg. It’s not like when he broke his femur. That had been an aching, blunt pain that throbbed in his bones. This pain is in the muscle, sharp and hot, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

The next thing that happens is that his memory starts to return to him in snapshots. One by one he sees flashes of what went down at the base of the hill. He remembers the boy in the backpack, Clyde’s smoking gun, Josie struggling in the man’s arms…

_ Josie. _

The pain in his leg instantly forgotten, Daryl pops his eyes open and tries to sit up. At the movement, his whole head rushes, and a wave of vertigo crashes over him, making him sick to his stomach. Hands push gently on his shoulders, forcing him to lie back. Daryl blinks blearily and sees Glenn leaning over him. They aren’t outside—not at the base of the hill where Daryl last remembers being—but are instead inside the smaller of the tents, a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows piled underneath him, and his aching leg propped up above his heart.

“Josie,” Daryl says, voice coming out croaky. Glenn nods, keeping his hands firm on Daryl until he’s confident he won’t try to sit up like that again.

“We know,” he says softly. He reaches over somewhere behind him and produces a bottle of water. He holds it out to Daryl.

“Where is she?” Daryl asks, not bothering to acknowledge the water Glenn is trying to give him.

“Rick and Michonne are out looking right now,” says Glenn, setting the bottle aside. He goes from sitting on his knees into a criss-cross position beside Daryl, raking a hand through his black hair.

“Looking for her,” Daryl repeats darkly. “They haven’t found her yet?”

“They might have by now. They left a couple hours ago, and—”

“A couple  _ hours _ ?” Daryl says. He tries to sit up again, but Glenn pushes him right back down.

“Dude, you’re hurt, you gotta stay like this until Hershel gives you the okay.”

“I need to go find my daughter is what I gotta do,” Daryl protests. He experiments moving his leg and grimaces when a sharp pain shoots up his thigh. “That asshole, the guy, Clyde or whatever, he took her. He and Aga stole the van. I tried to follow but he hit me over the head with his gun and I kept blacking out, and—”

“We know. We pieced it together,” Glenn says calmly. “We came when we heard the shot and heard Josie yelling. We found you...Found the backpack. Rick and Michonne took off after them, but Aga and Clyde had a decent head start. They’ll catch them, though, and they’ll bring Josie back. She’ll be fine.”

“Rick can’t track for shit. If the fuckers went off the road or went on foot in the woods he ain’t never gonna find ‘em. I gotta—”

“Stay right here,” Glenn finishes for him, ignoring Daryl’s scowl. “You’re all kinds of fucked up, dude. There’s nothing you can do but give Carol and Jesse some peace of mind now that you’re awake.”

Oh god.  _ Carol. _

How the fuck is he supposed to face Carol? He lost their daughter. He let her get stolen right from under him. There’s no way he can look that woman in the eye.

“I can’t,” he says, covering his face with his hands, trying to sort out his mess of thoughts into something coherent and failing. As if the monsters lurking outside weren’t enough, this nightmare just keeps on getting worse, and he wishes he thought he were dreaming, but he knows he’s not nearly this creative.

“You can’t what?” Glenn asks.

“See her. See them.”

Jesse is going to break his goddamn heart.  _ If it was Joey I don’t think I’d feel too good. _ Isn’t that what his son had said to him after Merle died? Different as they are, Jesse and Josie are inexorably linked, and Daryl has let them get torn apart, and that’s a wound that’s going to bleed, bleed, bleed, up until they’re sewn back together again.

The guilt makes him fear facing his wife.

But making him face his son? It’s unbearable.

Glenn isn’t having it, though. He pries Daryl’s hands away and gets all no-nonsense at him in a way he only does when he  _ needs _ Daryl to hear him. As Glenn speaks, Daryl’s reminded of years and years ago when he convinced him to put Carol in the hospital. His friend says, “Listen. This is terrible—I can’t begin to imagine how scared you are right now, I know that—but there’s no way in hell you’re going to avoid your family so you can dwell in self-pity. They need you, and you need them, so I’m going to go find Carol and tell her you’re awake, and you’re going to deal with this together, because if you’re going to get through this, you need to do it as a team.”

Glenn doesn’t mince words, but he doesn’t speak with aggression either—only truth, and Daryl’s resolve strengthens enough to allow him to nod. Glenn, with all his goofiness, has an uncanny ability to know exactly when he needs to be serious, and to what degree Daryl needs, and for that he is grateful for his friend.

“How bad is my leg?” Daryl asks before Glenn leaves to fetch Carol.

“Not as bad as it probably feels. How is it?” 

Daryl realizes then that he’s been stripped down to his boxers and has a thick layer of gauze wrapped around his thigh, a bit of blood soaked through.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Daryl admits. A heaping dose of shame hits him—regardless of whatever pain he may have, it feels petty to harp on it when his daughter is god-knows-where and his son is outside this tent grappling with the loss of his best friend.

“It’s nasty but superficial,” Glenn says, getting to his feet. “It needed stitches, but nothing important got fucked up. At least that’s what Hershel says. Whichever one of those assholes shot you they either weren’t aiming to cause serious damage, or they need target practice. Hershel was more concerned about your head. You didn’t react at all when he stitched up your leg with no pain killers. Now that you’re conscious and coherent, though, I think everyone will be less worried.” 

Daryl’s head  _ is _ throbbing—a blinding pain he’s doing his best to ignore—but what he’s gathering from his friend’s explanation is that he’s hurt, but not crippled, and that means he can overlook any pain if it means getting out there in search of his baby girl.

“I’m gonna get Carol now. She finally got Jesse to sleep and is sitting with him,” Glenn says. “And Hershel is gonna want to check you out.” He unzips the tent flap and hesitates. “She’s not angry at you, Daryl,” he adds in a quiet tone. “I know you think she is, but she’s not. She’s only scared, and needs you to keep her grounded, alright?”

“‘Kay,” Daryl whispers, refraining from voicing his doubt. How could she not be mad? He can’t think of anything worse he could have done outside of harming their children with his own hand.

Glenn looks like he can hear these thoughts going through Daryl’s mind, but he has the sense not to call him out on it. The only thing that’s going to convince Daryl that his wife isn’t out there stewing in well-warranted hatred is to hear it from her own mouth.

Hell, maybe not even then.

Glenn slips out, and in the silence of the tent, Daryl is confronted with the full magnitude of his pain. The physical pain, yes, but that’s not what’s close to suffocating him. No, that’s a very specific pain that’s radiating through him, as Josie’s cries for help repeat in his mind, echoing in his ears, and he is no more capable of saving her now than he was when she really was right there begging for him to fix everything for her, the way she’d come to trust he always would; the way he always  _ swore _ he would.

Every breath is a struggle under the weight of his broken promise.

The tent flap rustles and Daryl keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling, terrified to discover what he’s going to see when he looks at her.

He feels her kneel beside him, knees resting on the hard, bumpy ground, and Daryl fights his instinct to tell her to not make herself uncomfortable for his sorry sake. He inhales, ragged and precarious, as her hands slips into his that’s lying at his side. Every second passes by, strained, like a thin string pulled taut. 

“Daryl,” she whispers finally. “Look at me.”

His whole body shakes, and he knows she can feel it as the muscles in his arm tremble all the way down to the tips of his fingers. He turns his head, still throbbing from the wound on his temple, and forces himself to focus his gaze on her and  _ see _ .

There is no trace of anger in Carol’s eyes. They are as bright and kind as they ever are, but they’re sad—Christ almighty are they sad—and that’s  _ worse _ . He put that sadness there with his own negligence, and she loves him anyway.  _ How _ can she love him anyway?

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out in a gasp. Tears spill down his cheeks and he breathes the words out again. “I’m sorry.” His chest is tight. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She gathers him up in her arms, careful not to jostle his injured body too much, and strokes his hair as he buries his face in her chest and cries. She shushes him gently, pressing her lips to the crown of his head and rocking him to-and-fro like she would a child.

When he’s regulated his breathing enough to fend off the hyperventilation threatening to overtake him, she lays him back down on his bed of borrowed blankets and pillows. She wipes her own tears from her eyes, and brushes a thumb over his lips.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, and it guts him because it  _ is _ .

“You tried to tell me,” Daryl says. “You said you didn’t trust them.  _ I _ brought them into our camp.  _ I _ let them get the jump on me... _ I _ let Josie—”

Carol puts a finger to his mouth to quiet him.

“ _ It is not your fault, _ ” she says.

“We’ll find her,” Daryl says. “I’ll find her.”

“I know.”

“I swear to god I will.”

“I believe you,” she says, and she  _ does _ . He can hear it in her inflection; can feel it in the way she runs her knuckles down the stubble on his cheek. “I believe you,” she repeats, but her words waver. “I do, but Daryl? I’m so scared. That’s our baby out there.” She tries to keep her composure, but the sound of her voice is gutting as she says, “Daryl,  _ they stole our baby. _ ”

Even his Carol Override can’t stop his own fear that’s been seeping through every inch of him like the most potent venom there ever was, so instead of trying to placate her for something he can’t rid himself of, he tugs her down gently and has her curl up at his side; has her rest her head on his chest; has her place her hand over his heart.

“I’m getting her back,” he whispers in her ear.

“Anything you need to do, you do it,” Carol whispers in response. “You hear me?  _ Anything. _ ” 

He doesn’t need her to tell him. Their daughter is coming back to them, no matter what.

By any means necessary.

*

Hershel gives Daryl a thorough once over and a couple tabs of Tylenol.

“You’re not a cat or dog,” he says. “But the fundamentals are the same. You probably have one hell of a headache, and an even worse leg-ache, but you’re okay. Thank god. A few centimeters to the right and you’d be in real trouble.”

“Dunno what the hell the universe’s got against this leg in particular,” he mutters, scowling at that leg of his that’s already being held together by metal rods, and gnaws at him whenever the weather even suggests the idea of rain.

Hershel gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and instructs him to get some rest until Rick and Michonne return, as if he’s capable of resting when he doesn’t know where his daughter is, or if she’s scared or hurt.

It’s not until after Hershel leaves does Carol bring Jesse in to see him, and it’s such a conflicting feeling, wanting to hold his son as tight as he can and never let go, and wanting to stay as far away as possible from him at the same time.

Morning is fully upon them now. The sun is hitting the tent, making Daryl overheated buried in all the blankets, as he hears Carol speaking softly to Jesse as they get closer. Despite his head pounding less when he’s lying down, Daryl forces himself into a sitting position, not wanting to make this any harder than it needs to be for the kid. He doesn’t need to see his dad looking like a hospital patient. Not with everything else in chaos.

A minute later, Carol enters the tent, maneuvering awkwardly with Jesse clinging to her in her arms. His face is partially hidden in his mother’s neck and his eyes fall on Daryl, wide and nervous.

“See?” Carol whispers to Jesse. “I told you daddy was okay. He just got a couple nasty ouchies, that’s all. Mr. Hershel says he’s gonna be just fine.”

“But Mr. Hershel is a vetter aquarium, not a people doctor,” Jesse protests, and there’s a noticeable absence of Josie huffing and correcting her brought with a haughty, “ _ Veterinarian. _ ”

“Well, he’s such a good vet that he can fix people up, too,” Carol reasons. Jesse wets his bottom lip thoughtfully, still eyeing Daryl with trepidation.

“Are you really okay, daddy?” he asks finally, needing to hear it from Daryl himself.

“I’m okay, bud,” Daryl says gently. “I’d be more okay if I got a hug from my favorite lil’ dude, though.”

“Do you think you can give your daddy a hug?” Carol asks Jesse. When he nods, she sets him down on the ground, and he approaches hesitantly.

“Your head is purple,” Jesse says with a worried brow, standing just out of reach. Daryl hasn’t looked in a mirror, but it’s not a stretch to assume that he’s bruised up pretty good from where the gun struck him.

“Yeah,” Daryl says with a solemn sigh. “That’s where the aliens tried to suck out my brains.”

The corner of Jesse’s lips quirk up the most miniscule amount. 

“Did they get any?” he asks.

“Of my brains? Hm, I don’t think so. How would I know?”

“You’d be stupider,” Jesse says pragmatically. “Here, what’s a billion times a trillion?”

“ _ You _ don’t know the answer to that, so how are you gonna know if your daddy’s got it right?” Carol asks, smiling from where she’s standing with her arms crossed. Jesse hums.

“I guess that’s true. Okay, what’s two plus two?”

“Mm...five?” Daryl says.

“No,” Jesse says, grinning a little wider.

“Ten?”

“No,” Jesse says again, giggling now.

“Damn, well I guess they got some of my brains after all. That’s okay, though, I don’t need ‘em. I got y’all to be the smart ones for me.”

Jesse’s smile falters, and Daryl knows he’s thinking of his sister.

“Hey,” Daryl says, holding his arms out. “C’mere and hug your brainless dad.”

Convinced he’s not going to hurt Daryl, Jesse walks right into his embrace and presses his cheek against him, wrapping his short lil’ arms around his father’s torso the best he can. Daryl cups the back of his son’s head, getting a handful of thick floof, and any feeling of wanting to avoid him flies right out the window. He doesn’t want to let go for anything, suddenly terrified of what might happen if he doesn’t keep his other baby right beside him. Clinging to his son, he loves him fiercely with his everything.

“Did you really get shooted, daddy?” Jesse asks in a small voice. 

“Yeah, kid, I did, but it’s not too bad. Nothin’ I can’t handle, alright? So don’t worry none about me. ‘Member what I said about worrying about the grown ups. That ain’t your job.”

“On TV there was a show about a lady who had a husband, you know, like how you are momma’s husband, except he was a bad husband, and he shooted her and she died.” 

Daryl pulls back to frown at his son.

“When the hell were you watching a show like that?” he asks, and Jesse twists his mouth, his wide eyes not-so-innocent.

“Auntie Barb had it on the TV one time and fell asleep on the couch and I sitted with the kitties and watched. I only watched a little bit, though! Well. I watched two episodes. Maybe three.” 

Daryl raises an eyebrow at Carol, who rolls her eyes and says, “That explains that week of nightmares about ‘all those scary murderers.’” 

Daryl remembers that week. It was one of several cockblock weeks where Jesse’s imagination got the better of him and led him to Carol and Daryl’s bed.

“Well, I didn’t die,” Daryl says, rubbing Jesse’s back in reassurance. “It hurts, but Mr. Hershel gave me some stitches and some medicine to make it all better.”

“They gave a lady stitches in this TV show where they did something to her boobies to make them bigger,” Jesse informs him.

“‘Kay, how many shows you weren’t s’posed to watch did Auntie show you?” Daryl asks.

“Oh, that was at Uncle Glenn’s house. He had it on by accident and told me that it’s okay for girls to do what they want and sometimes they want big boobies and that’s okay, and also it’s okay if they don’t want big boobies, and also he told me not to tell you he told me that...Oh. Whups.” 

Daryl laughs for the first time since the kidnapping and kisses Jesse on the temple.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he mutters. “Kinda glad TV don’t work no more right now.”

“Daddy’s stitches are on his leg, though, not his boobies,” Carol adds helpfully, making Jesse giggle.

The little boy burrows in closer to Daryl and lets out a long sigh.

“Daddy?” he asks, the smile in his voice fading.

“Yeah, baby boy?”

“When is Joey coming home?”

Daryl exchanges a glance with Carol, who ducks her head, uncrossing her arms and hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans.

“As soon as possible,” Daryl whispers, clutching Jesse tighter still. “Rick and Michonne are out looking right now.”

“Will they find her?”

“I hope so.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then we keep looking,” Daryl says. “We don’t stop lookin’ for nothin’, alright?”

“Alright,” Jesse whispers.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Daryl asks, and Jesse is quiet for a long moment, resting against Daryl’s chest. Daryl waits for his son to pull out a bizarre metaphor that needs explaining, but when his son speaks it is transparent, coherent, and breaks Daryl’s heart.

“I miss my sissy,” Jesse whispers, tears welling up and spilling out when he clamps his eyes shut. His lower lip trembles, and his kind, sweet voice breaks. “I want my sissy home, daddy.” He wipes his runny nose with his fist and mumbles against Daryl’s shirt, “Please bring Joey back.” 

*

Against protests from essentially everyone, Daryl migrates out of the tent, going crazy lying there doing nothing but think. There’s not much else he can do outside, but at least he has fresh air to grant him some semblance of calm.

Carol forces food and water on him, which he only takes to encourage Jesse to do the same. No one is up much for eating, though. Even Henry is ignoring the kibble set out for him, opting instead to pace back and forth, sniffing the ground and whining. Daryl knows they’re all counting the seconds, waiting to hear the rumble of Rick and Michonne’s car, needing to know if they’ve brought Jose back with them.

It’s not until nearly ten in the morning when the sound of a car comes from down at the base of the hill, and everyone is on their feet at once, as if it had been choreographed. Daryl’s injured thigh screams at him, threatening his balance, but he ignores it, hobbling along with the others to peer over the edge of the hill.

Sure enough, Michonne and Rick are parking the car alongside the other ones still left. Daryl curses their tinted windows, heart beating in his throat. Jesse comes up between him and Carol, and they both wrap an arm around his shoulders. The car doors swing open, and Rick and Michonne both step out of the vehicle. 

Alone.

Carol brings her arms to her chest, holding her elbows and stomping a foot, fighting back tears as she says, “They didn’t find her.”

Daryl’s stomach drops, and the little boy beside him hangs his head, sniffling.

“‘Member what I told you,” Daryl whispers to Jesse. “We ain’t givin’ up.”

Jesse nods, and Daryl prays to a God he’s never been convinced he believes in that his friends trudging up the hill aren’t coming to tell them that they  _ did _ find Josie, but not in the way they needed them to. It’s one thing to think about his daughter being held hostage, but thinking about Josie never coming back because she’s...well, he can’t even finish the thought, let alone entertain it.

Daryl seeks out Rick, who meets his eye, and his friend is apologetic, Daryl can see that plain as day, but he’s not hopeless. The apology in Rick’s face says he’s sorry he didn’t bring Josie back—not that he discovered something unthinkable—and a pebble or two from the rocks crushing Daryl’s chest dissipate. 

“Well?” Daryl asks once his friends are within ear shot, not bothering to hide his impatience.

“We found your van,” Rick says. “It was abandoned and out of gas.” He and Michonne reach the top of the hill, the both of them regarding Daryl from head to toe.

“Should you be standing on that leg?” Michonne asks.

“What else?” Daryl asks, blowing right on past the question. “Where was it? What direction? Did they take a different car?”

“As far as we can figure, when the van ran out of gas they got out, grabbed what they could carry from the back, and went on foot until they found another ride. We followed what we thought was the tread of their new car for a while, but then they pulled off the dirt roads and hit the highway, at a fork no less, and there was no way to follow on asphalt. Our best guess is that they were headed north. And Daryl? On the stretch they walked? There were kid footsteps beside them. We’re convinced Josie is still with them, and is well enough to walk.” 

Daryl’s not sure if that’s a comfort or not. At least she’s not out there fending for herself, but then again, Daryl almost trusts Josie on her own more than with these thieves. She would be smart about it—she’d know to find the most obvious place they’d look for her, and she’d know to stay put. She is logical to a fault, and Daryl can follow her thought process with ease, but her captives? He can’t begin to tell you how their minds work. They’re grief-stricken, erratic, not to mention batshit, and that’s a combination that’s a straight pain in the ass for a tracker.

“Where do we go from here, then?” Glenn asks, standing hand-in-hand with Maggie. 

Next to Daryl, Jesse tugs on his shirt sleeve.

“Yeah, baby?” Daryl asks, glancing down at his son.

“The disease place,” Jesse says. Daryl frowns.

“What?” he asks.

“Aga and Clyde said at supper last night that they wanna go to the place that fixes diseases.” 

“I believe he’s talking about the CDC,” Hershel says.

“Yeah,” Jesse says. “They said it’s safe there. I bet they will take Joey there ‘cause of the baby they had that wasn’t safe. The one in the backpack.”

“You saw that?” Daryl asks, snapping up to look at Carol in horror, but Jesse shakes his head.

“No. I heard the grownups talking when they all thinked I was sleeping,” he explains. He looks between Carol and Daryl and says, “You know how you say when me and Joey make mistakes we are s’posed to learn from them so we don’t do it again? Maybe Clyde and Aga’s baby getting hurt was a mistake and now they wanna make sure Joey is safe so they don’t do the mistake again.”

The adults are all silent for a long moment.

“He’s got a point,” Glenn says. “They didn’t take Josie to hurt her. They took her because they wanted her to replace their son.”

Daryl sneers at that. Grief does weird things, he knows, but there’s nothing or nobody in the world that could ever  _ replace _ one of his children. 

“What do you think?” Daryl asks Rick. His friend tilts his head, thinking, and then shrugs.

“Honestly, it’s the best lead we have. We can take you to where we found the van and you can see what you think, since you can track better than us, but I think Jesse’s on to something.”

“It’d mean going back to Atlanta,” Maggie points out.

“It would,” Rick agrees, looking at Daryl expectantly.

“I’m doin’ whatever I gotta do to find my daughter,” Daryl says.

“Me too,” Carol agrees from beside him.

“That don’t mean you gotta put yourselves in danger, though,” Daryl says. “It’ll be safer for y’all to hold up here, or find some more permanent shelter, than it will be to go on this hunt with us.”

“We’re not letting you go alone,” Glenn says, scoffing at Daryl like he can’t understand how he’d ever even entertain such an idea.

“Daryl’s right,” Carol says to the group. “This is  _ our _ daughter, and we have an obligation and a need to protect her, but all of you have each other to protect, too. We can track you down after we get her back. We won’t resent any of you if you choose to stay behind.”

“Guys—” Glenn starts, but Daryl interrupts him.

“We mean it. We’re not forcing any of y’all into anythin’ to save our girl. We got our family to look out for, but you got yours.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Rick says. “Anyone who wants to stay behind and have Carol and Daryl go it on their own, raise your hand.”

Every single person in the group stares at Daryl, Carol, and Jesse with identical expressions of, ‘wow, you’re dense,’ and Daryl quirks the corner of his mouth up.

“We’re all family,” Rick says to Daryl and Carol quietly. “All of us. And you’re idiots if you think otherwise.”

Daryl exchanges a look with Carol, who gives a thin-lipped smile and ducks her head. Daryl clears his throat.

“‘Kay then,” he says. “I guess we’re goin’ to the CDC.” 

*

_ The hospital room is calm and quiet, Carol fast asleep in her bed getting some much needed rest, two clear, hospital bassinets sat beside her, the babies resting after a long twenty-four hours of being introduced to the world. Daryl knows he should take advantage of this time—every seasoned parent would tell him it’s a rookie mistake not to—but he can’t. Even as exhaustion tugs at his eyelids and makes his limbs heavy, he lies on the fold-out bed in the corner of the room, wide awake, staring at the bassinets.  _

_ He misses his kids. The realization almost makes him laugh. They’re ten feet away from him, and have been in and out of his arms for most of, well, most of their lives, thus far, and yet he misses them.  _

_ Careful not to make any noise that might disturb Carol, who deserves every second of rest she can get, Daryl unfurls himself from his springy cot and tiptoes over in socked feet to peer over and catch a glimpse of his new favorite faces.  _

_ Jesse is out like a light, swaddled up like a burrito with wisps of soft hair poking out from underneath his hat. His perfect, pink lips are parted as he breathes quick breaths into his tiny lungs. Daryl doesn’t dare disturb him. It’s hard to get him to lie by himself, and as much as he’d like to cuddle him, he knows he’d want to eat, and Carol needs more time. Daryl traces his finger a millimeter above his son’s chubby cheek, hoping that, even his sleep, he knows his father is close by and there for him. _

_ Josie, to Daryl’s surprise, isn’t asleep. On the contrary, her eyes are open and alert, and she’s simply relaxing in her swaddle, taking it all in.  _

_ Daryl can’t help himself. He slips his hand underneath her and scoops her up into his arms, his movements still a little tense as he learns the right ways to hold his babies. It’ll come with time. Already he’s more confident, adjusting Josie so that she’s cradled in the crook of his elbow. He takes her past his cot, over to the rocking chair in the far corner, further away from Jesse and Carol. He leans back and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his muscles loosen as he regards his daughter. _

_ She’s watching him with intensity, like she’s trying hard to figure him out, and he watches her back the exact same way. They have each other’s eyes. It’s the same gaze; the same wonder, mirrored.  _

_ “Hey, Jojo,” Daryl says as loudly as he dares. He laughs at himself, and adds, “Guess I’m already givin’ you nicknames, huh? That’s alright. Nothin’ wrong with a good nickname.” _

_ Josie blinks, not making a single peep. _

_ “I been gettin’ to know your brother real good today,” Daryl continues. “You pro’ly know him better than me, huh? You known him longer. Kinda weird, huh? We don’t hardly know each other, do we? I spent a lotta time with JJ—ah, there I go with nicknames again—and he’s been real good at introducing himself, but I think it’s high time you and me do some proper introductions, don’t you think?”  _

_ He starts rocking the chair back and forth in a gentle rhythm, and tilts his head thoughtfully. _

_ “Who are you, Jojo?” he whispers. “Hm? What kinda person are you gonna be? A quiet one, I’d bet. You don’t make a whole lotta noise. I get that, I don’t neither. Well, I mean, I’m yappin’ at you right now, but that’s ‘cause you ain’t a great conversationalist yet, and you’re makin’ me do all the talkin’.” _

_ Josie yawns wide, her toothless gums on display, and Daryl grins. _

_ “Oh, sorry ma’am, am I boring you?” He shakes his head at her. “Too bad. You gotta hang out with me for a lil’ while yet. We got a long-ass road ahead with each other, so we might as well get a jump on our relationship now.  _

_ “You know, your Uncle Glenn might tell me I ain’t s’posed to say this ‘cause you’ll get some sort of complex about your looks bein’ the most important thing about you or whatever them books he’s always readin’ say, but you are so beautiful, baby girl. And I ain’t sayin’ that just ‘cause you look like me. Trust me, you pull it off way better. You’re absolutely gorgeous. Prettiest girl I ever saw, tied only with your momma, but you got some of her in you, too, I can see it. That’s pro’ly your savin’ grace. You didn’t get stuck with my ugly mug entirely.” _

_ Josie hiccups, spitting up a little, and Daryl wipes it away with his thumb without a second thought, already falling into that special parental blindspot where gross things about your kids hardly even register.  _

_ “I told your brother this earlier, and I want you to hear it too, and that’s that Imma do everything I can to be there for you, okay? I promise to keep you safe. You can trust me. I know it can be scary to trust people sometimes, but I don’t intend to let you down. I ain’t perfect, baby girl, and I’ll fuck up now and then, but nothin’ is more important to me than you two. Not a damn thing. You are the most precious things I got, and I would do anythin’ in the world to protect you. Anythin’.” _

_ Daryl blinks back tears. That’s been happening a lot over the past day or so. Is that part of fatherhood? he wonders. Does loving so big make you cry so easy? Maybe he’s just tired. Whatever the reason, he blinks them back, Josie watching him do it, and he smiles. _

_ “Y’all got me feelin’ some type of way,” he says. “I ain’t the person I was at eleven fifty-two Tuesday night, Jojo. ‘Cause out you came at eleven fifty-three and changed everythin’. And I love you and your brother equally, don’t you get a big head, but you’re my first born. You get credit for that change in me, baby. That’ll always be somethin’ special between you and me.”  _

_ Josie’s eyes droop, and she yawns again. Daryl rocks her in silence, and after a minute or two she finally lets her curious little brain rest, slipping into sleep like her brother and mother. Daryl, though, he’s still awake. He presses a long kiss to his daughter’s forehead, and breathes in that new baby smell. _

_ “I love you, Josie Dixon,” he whispers, even softer than before. “It’s so damn good to meet you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. sorry this chapter is shorter than most, and maybe boring? is it boring? sorry if it's boring. i needed a set up chapter. there's a lot happening in the next chapter, and i couldn't break it up without it feeling inorganic, so you got this one instead. prob could use it, though, right? we all needed some time to deal with the Everything that's happened the past few chapters. don't worry, though (or maybe do?), 'cause we're back in the action hardcore next week. weee!
> 
> no in memoriam today! that's nice, right? 
> 
> i'm embarrassingly attached to fictional twins, btw. like. it's bad.
> 
> anyway, see you next week, and if you care, keep a look out, bc i'll probably have a oneshot, or maybe a chapter of "romancing the undertaker" out before the next "gas gauge" installment
> 
> le deuces, 
> 
> -diz


	8. What Gets You Killed in War

Wind whips through Daryl’s greasy hair. He hasn’t had a shower in days, but it’s the last thing on his mind while the thrum of his dead brother’s Triumph rumbles beneath him. The wound on his left leg yells for his attention, the pain snaking all the way up his thigh and into his side, his nerves on fire, but he doesn’t care about that either. Hershel made him walk a straight line and recite his ABCs like a goddamn sobriety test before he’d reluctantly declared him stable enough to ride, even with the purple welt on his temple. Daryl knows Carol wanted to fight him on it—wanted him safely tucked away in the back of Rick and Michonne’s car with her and Jesse—but she knows him well enough to know he needs to breathe. God, does he need to breathe. The weight of everything is closing in on him more and more, his mind a metronome, keeping time of every pulsating second his daughter is lost somewhere with strangers he already knows couldn’t keep a child alive.

Bringing up the rear of the caravan, Daryl follows his friends down a series of dirt roads, the dust kicking up under their tires. Daryl blinks it out of his eyes, and does his best to see through it, hoping to catch any signs of Aga and Clyde that Rick and Michonne may have missed.

There’s nothing, of course; he didn’t have high hopes to begin with, but remains disappointed regardless, as the cars and trucks in front of him slow to a stop. He turns off the bike and gets off with a wince, kicking the stand and letting it sit while he limps over to convene with the others. Up ahead a few paces is his and Carol’s abandoned van.

“The keys are in the ignition,” Rick says, opening the van door. He leans in and turns the key. The van sputters and dies. 

“Pro’ly out of gas like you said,” Daryl says, leaning up against one of the cars to keep himself steady. Jesse comes and hugs Daryl’s good leg, and Daryl rubs his back. “Anythin’ left in the back?”

In response, Carol goes over and opens the trunk.

“They took the rest of the weapons,” she says. “Your lockbox is still back here, but that’s it.”

“Do we wanna try and siphon gas from somewhere to get it going again?” Glenn asks. Carol looks to Daryl, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t make a lotta sense, does it? We don’t know if’n when we’ll get gas along the route to Atlanta, so we should minimize the number of vehicles we have, to make it last longer.” He gestures towards the van with a nod. “We know where it’s at if we decide we want it back.”

“If no one else has taken it by then,” Carol says darkly.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Daryl says. “Grab that lockbox and put it in with the rest of the supplies, would you?” Carol takes it out of the trunk and carries it with her back to Rick’s car. She holds it against her belly with both hands and waits.

“Where do we go from here?” Maggie asks. “Does anyone know where the CDC is exactly?”

“Only that it’s in Atlanta,” Rick admits. To Daryl, he asks, “You got any idea what route we need to take?”

He doesn’t. He’d kill for GPS right about now. Tracking is easy. Knowing his cardinal directions? Piece of cake. But none of his survival skills matter if he doesn’t have an address.

“Daddy?” Jesse asks quietly.

“Yeah?” Daryl says, distracted, trying to think of a solution. They could probably find a map at a gas station, but he’s not sure where the nearest one is, and they have to take in consideration that some may be overrun. 

“Do you need a map?” 

“Yeah, kid.”

“I have one.”

Everyone turns to look at Jesse.

“What? Where do you have a map, sweet potato?” Carol asks.

“Hold on, I’ll show you,” Jesse says, letting go of Daryl’s pant leg and going over to the van. Everyone watches dumbly as he gets in through the driver’s side door Rick still has open, and climbs over the center console into the backseat. Jesse emerges a minute later with a thin book clutched to his chest. Hopping out onto the ground, he hands it over to Daryl, who takes it and thumbs through it.

“This is that book on Georgia you got from the school library,” Daryl says, scanning a page with words in big font talking about the brown thrasher being the state bird, and the Cherokee rose the state flower. He raises an eyebrow at Jesse and asks, “Didn’t we get a letter from your teacher sayin’ you never returned this and you told us you lost it?”

“Mm, I maybe didn’t tell the truth exactly,” Jesse says, hunching his shoulders to his chin. “I wanted to look at the pictures some more so I hid it under my booster seat. I was gonna give it back, though! I just forgot. Are you mad?”

There are, Daryl thinks,  _ so _ many worse things to worry about right now, that his son five-fingering a library book doesn’t even make top fifty.

“You said there was a map?” he asks Jesse.

“Uh-huh. In the back. There’s lots of them.”

Daryl flips to the back of the book to find several pages of different types of maps of Georgia. One is for population, one’s for climate, but the one he cares about is the close-up map of the capital city, with important landmarks highlighted. Like the Center for Disease Control.

Daryl cracks a small smile and hands the book over to Rick to see.

“Perfect,” Rick says, tracing a finger along the interstate lines leading north. “You just saved our butts, kid.”

Jesse smiles hesitantly and looks between his two parents with nervous eyes.

“You did good,” Daryl tells him. “Even though it’s wrong to steal.”

Glenn clears his throat and nods towards the back of Hershel’s truck, full of the supplies they looted from the dollar store. Daryl concedes the point.

“Usually,” he amends.

*

They keep going again for a few miles, until Daryl spots an opportunity and speeds up to the front of the caravan to flag everyone down, getting them to slow to a stop.

They’ve come to a stretch of highway littered with abandoned cars. Daryl can make out lots of footprints leading onto the shoulder and into the grass, like several people fled at once. A few yards ahead there’s a lone walker, dragging its feet towards them at a languid pace. Without giving himself time to think, Daryl lifts his crossbow, loads it, and sends a bolt flying with a thwap, hitting the walker bullseye in the middle of its forehead. It collapses to the ground and Daryl dismounts his bike and limps over to the corpse, yanking out his arrow and wiping the blood off onto his pant leg.

“What is it? Why’d you stop?” Rick asks, the others getting out and shutting the doors behind them.

“We can siphon gas here,” Daryl explains, gesturing down the expanse of road. Cars and trucks are scattered haphazardly, some facing the wrong way their lanes, and some veering off the asphalt entirely, all of them stuck in a perpetual traffic jam, long since abandoned. Are any of the owners of these vehicles even still alive?   
  


Daryl shakes himself free of the thought. There’s no time to dwell or dawdle. Not while Josie is still out there.

“Do you know how to siphon gas?” Maggie asks.

“Pfft,” is what Daryl has to say to that.

Daryl’s father was useless in terms of doling out any love or affection or fostering any sense of self-worth in the malleable minds of his children, but the one thing that can be said of him is that he taught Daryl and Merle how to survive. Growing up dirt poor in the rural south, Daryl’s daddy had been forced to learn how to fend for himself. He caught his own food, stitched his own wounds, and kept himself safe. It was not out of compassion that he imparted this wisdom on his sons, but rather because that’s how he functioned, and Daryl and Merle picked it up as easily as a child would pick up language.

“Dude, do you seriously have that good of aim or was that a lucky shot?” Glenn asks, inspecting the walker Daryl took down.

“It wasn’t a fluke,” Carol says with a hint of pride. “He’s just that good.”

Unsure on how to handle the impressed expressions of his friends, Daryl mutters, “C’mon, we’re burnin’ daylight,” and checks out the car closest to him. From behind him, Rick orders the others to fan out and check the other vehicles as well, reminding them to keep special care to watch out for walkers.

Daryl climbs into the driver’s seat of the tiny silver car before him. It’s undisturbed, with nothing out of place, except for the fact that it’s abandoned in the middle of the highway, the keys still dangling from the ignition. Daryl turns the car on just long enough to see that there’s a little more than half a tank left, and makes a mental note that this is one of the vehicles they can siphon from. 

He makes to get out, before hesitating and popping open the center console. There’s a pack of travel-size tissues, a lighter, and a pen that has the name of some credit union on the side. He tries the glove box and finds crumpled up, expired Burger King coupons, a pink registration slip, and a car manual. At the sight of the ordinary, everyday stuff, a pang of guilt fills his belly. These are someone’s things he’s rifling through, and didn’t he tell his son not even an hour ago that it’s wrong to steal?

The lines between right and wrong are getting muddier by the second.

He slams the glove box shut and tries not to think about the owners of this car. Normal people with their own lives that they may never return to.

*

_ (4:44p) *Hi, don't freak out, but I wanted you to hear it from me in case they talk about it on the news or something, but we had to evacuate the clinic today bc some guy brought a gun in and threatened the front desk ppl.* _

_ (4:46p) -what??- _

_ (4:46p) -carol /ur/ the front desk ppl wtf r u ok?- _

_ (4:47p) *Yes, I'm fine. Everyone is fine. The dude got arrested and apparently his gun wasn't even real.* _

_ (4:48p) -y wud someone go 2 a drs office n hold a pregnant woman @ gunpoint wtf- _

_ (4:48p) -r u sure ur ok?- _

_ (4:49p) *Remember how I started this conversation w/ "don't freak out"?* _

_ (4:50p) -fuk tht someone pointed a gun @ u- _

_ (4:51p) *A fake gun." _

_ (4:51p) *He was shaking the whole time, too, you could tell he wasn't really the type. Ig he was upset bc he's sick and he uses our clinic a lot but his medical bills are insane bc his healthcare sucks and he just was at his wits end.* _

_ (4:52p) *I don't think even he knew what his endgame was. I think he had a vague plan of threatening us into deleting his bills, but he rly was just having a psychotic break and wanted to scare us.* _

_ (4:52p) *Which he succeeded in doing.* _

_ (4:53p) -ugh- _

_ (4:53p) -i dnt like this- _

_ (4:53p) -u shud come home early- _

_ (4:54p) *My boss said she'd be okay if I did, but I don't want to waste the vacation time, I wanna save what I can in case there are any complications with the pregnancy.* _

_ (4:54p) *It's only two hours, plus everyone is slaving over me bc I talked down a guy w/ a gun while heavily preggers.* _

_ (4:55p) -wdym u talked him down?- _

_ (4:56p) *We have a panic button, but while we were waiting for security/police to show up I had a conversation w/ him to try and keep him calm.* _

_ (4:56p) *My boss commended me for having "exceptional calm in a high-stress situation".* _

_ (4:57p) *Dude was already lowering his gun by the time help arrived. He even apologized to me as they cuffed him lmfao.* _

_ (4:57p) *I promise it wasn't like, life or death. Even if the gun had been real.* _

_ (4:57p) *I think I want to take self-defense classes, tho.* _

_ (4:57p) *Once I can bend down more than two inches I mean. You know, just in case.* _

_ (4:57p) *I wanna be one of those unassuming women that no one thinks can do anything, but can secretly kill a man by snapping his neck w/ two fingers.* _

_ (4:58p) -yes- _

_ (4:58p) -plz- _

_ (4:58p) -i'll pay 4 them- _

_ (4:59p) *Lol! You're still freaking out, aren't you? Baby, I am /fine/. The babies are /fine/. Are you sure you want to finance me being secretly lethal? What if I go darkside and turn against you?" _

_ (5:00p) -at least i'll kno tht ull b able 2 protect urself n the twins after uve killed me- _

_ (5:00p) -ilu- _

_ (5:01p) *I love you, too. Try to chill. It takes more than a shaky guy holding a fake gun to take me down.* _

_ (5:02p) -ik- _

_ (5:02p) -n ik ur strong- _

_ (5:02p) -still gna worry abt u tho- _

_ (5:02p) -its kinda wut i do- _

_ (5:03p) *There are worse things in the world than ppl worrying about you bc they love you too much.* _

_ (5:03p) *I'm totally taking classes, tho. Next guy who looks at me wrong won't know what hit him.* _

_ (5:03p) *(Me. It'll be me that hit him.)* _

_ (5:04p) -lmfao- _

_ (5:04p) -if it keeps u safe thn hell ya bb- _

_ (5:05p) *Gonna have babies soon. Can't have anyone fuck with Momma Bear.* _

*

  
  
  


The drive to Atlanta is slow going. What would normally amount to an hour and a half drive, two tops, is taking twice as long. They keep going off their route, encountering cars cutting them off, or big “ROAD CLOSED” gates. At every stop, Daryl does a sweep for any sign of where Aga and Clyde took Josie. Did they encounter this same road block? Which direction would they have headed next?

So far they haven’t found jack, and Daryl is getting increasingly restless with every second that passes. The sun goes down earlier each day now that they’ve headed into autumn, and if they don’t make it to the CDC by nightfall they’ll be forced to find somewhere off the main highway to make shelter. It’d be easy to stumble right into a walker if they can’t see in the dark, and Daryl isn’t about to risk Carol and Jesse like that. Still, any time they’re not on the road Josie could be getting further away.

At around four in the afternoon they make a pit stop at a gas station that appears deserted. Not for gas, of course. Even if they wanted it, there’s a giant sign hanging from the pump that reads, “NOTHING LEFT”—which is somehow much more ominous than if they had written something like, “out of order”—but they pull into the parking lot anyway, because they’ve hit another block in the road and need to revisit the map to find yet another way into Atlanta.

Daryl is about ready to lose his goddamn mind.

“We could try taking this back highway,” Rick is saying, pointing at the proposed new route in Jesse’s contraband library book. 

“That’ll make us backtrack a good twenty miles,” Michonne points out.

“Yeah, but the other option spits us out way too far east,” Glenns says. “And it seems to me like these roadblocks have been put up on main roads. Probably to control the flow of traffic into the city once it started getting saturated.”

Daryl runs his fingers through Jesse’s fluffy hair and bites back his frustration. Carol is tense at his side, stoic as a statue to anyone looking say for him. He can see the worry line in her brow, and the way she keeps clenching and unclenching her fist, as though she too can feel every second on the clock pass by like a punch in the gut. The lightning in both of their bellies is off the charts.

“We’re gonna end up standing here debating which route is more time efficient longer than it would take us to just pick one and fucking go,” she says, her tone taut. There’s a moment of consideration that comes right before the collective agreement.

“Alright,” Rick says decisively. “We’ll take the back highway.” 

“Let’s get out of here, then,” Daryl says, already untangling himself from Jesse, but Hershel objects. 

He says, “It may be in our best interest to take a moment to see what this store has to offer before we leave. I’m starting to get the suspicion that getting the supplies we need is only going to grow more difficult with each passing day.” 

Daryl wants to say screw the store, except Jesse ate animal crackers and salted peanuts for breakfast and lunch, and the thought of running out of water worries him. None of them have washed anything but their teeth in days, careful to be mindful of their rations, but there are a lot of them, and water goes fast. 

“In and out,” he says. “I’ll go in with one of y’all, and the rest be ready to go soon as we’re done.”

“I’ll go in with you,” Carol says. Daryl frowns at her, but she cuts off his objection before it can begin. “I’ve got too much pent up anxiety. I need to  _ do _ something.”

Daryl can understand that.

“Alright,” he agrees. “JJ, you go and sit in the car with Uncle Rick and Auntie Michonne.”

“Can I go with you and momma?” Jesse asks, apprehensive at the thought of being out of his parents’ sight.

“No,” Daryl says firmly, remembering what he found at the last gas station they stopped at. “You stay where I know you’re safe.”

Carol grabs a knapsack to fill with supplies, and Daryl adjusts the crossbow on his shoulder. Michonne takes Jesse by the hand, and the rest of the group splits off towards their respective vehicles, ready to bolt at the command, and Carol unsheathes her trench knife Daryl didn’t know she was hiding, the knuckle guards a perfect fit around her slender fingers. He’d gotten that as a gift for her the first time they went hunting together, and taught her how to skin a rabbit. She’d joked afterwards that he really knew how to be romantic. Jokes on her, though, she’s the one who married him.

The two of them peer through the windows before attempting to enter. The building seems innocuous enough, no sign of anything living or dead moving around inside. Daryl arms and raises his crossbow, and gestures to Carol to get the door.

The store is small, with no frills or thrills. Checkout counter, snack aisles, cold drinks—what you would expect, and nothing more. A lanyard hanging on the wall behind the counter with a key attached to it suggests the bathroom is locked up out around back, the building not big enough to fit it inside. Most of the lights are off, except the back lighting from the refrigerators, and a hidden bulb glowing somewhere by the wall of cigarettes and lottery tickets. The two of them lower their weapons.

“Check that out,” Carol whispers, pointing up ahead at a duffle bag, open and abandoned in the middle of the floor. They approach it cautiously, as though a monster is about to leap out of it and attack them, but the only noise in the store continues to be the quiet hum of electricity, and the only movement comes from them.

“Someone was here,” Carol says unnecessarily, as various sundry items have quite obviously been tossed into the bag with no care to how they’re arranged.

It’s a military duffel, with the name “Jensen” stitched onto the side. Daryl can make out the grip of a silver-colored gun underneath single serving bags of potato chips and a couple Tabasco flavored Slim Jims.

“I don’t like this,” Daryl whispers. “Where’d the owner go?” He glances around the store again, searching for a threat that would have driven someone to flee without their crucial supplies. “What if they’re coming back?”

“Then we should hurry,” Carol says. She crouches down and begins sifting through the bag. Daryl frowns.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Seeing if there’s anything of value in here.” At Daryl’s silence she turns her head to look at him, her expression steady. “How is this any different than plucking items off the shelves?” she asks. “We can call it stealing if you want, but we’re gonna be doing a lot of it, I should think, so I don’t see much point in harping on it, do you?”

There is something that feels more intimately  _ wrong _ about going through things that clearly belong to someone else, rather than looting supplies that hasn’t been claimed, but this is neither the time nor place for a morality discussion. The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky, and Daryl is determined to get to the CDC before nightfall.

“Gimme your knapsack, I’m gonna grab some water,” he says instead. Carol lifts the strap off her shoulder and hands it to him. Limping, he goes over to the back wall of drinks and scans the shelves.

At least one other person has beat them to the punch—maybe the person with the duffel bag—and while it’s frustrating, it gives Daryl a bit of comfort that he’s not the only one taking goods with impunity. 

The water has been mostly cleaned out, but Daryl spots a few bottles of the cheap, crap-brand stuff at the bottom in an easy-to-miss spot. With a shooting pain for his efforts, Daryl gets to his knees and throws the last of the water into Carol’s bag, along with a couple remaining bottles of Gatorade. All purples ones. Unfortunate.

He’s debating the merits of grabbing energy drinks when something falls to the ground behind him. Ignoring his screaming leg, he pops to his feet instantly, throwing the strap of the bag over his shoulder and lifting off his crossbow in the same movement, all on pure instinct. 

“Stand up slowly so I can see you. Don’t pretend you’re not there. I heard you,” Carol is saying. Daryl hurries over and finds her aiming a gun she must have lifted from the duffel at the checkout counter. A beat passes, and then a man rises up from behind the register, his hands held above him in surrender. Daryl points his crossbow at the stranger, the pulse in his throat thumping wildly.

“Don’t try nothin’,” Daryl says to the man. The man, eyes wide as saucers, shakes his head quickly.

“I’m here for the same reason as y’all,” he says, voice trembling. “I don’t mean no harm, I just needed food and water. I’m all out of water.”

He’s a wiry thing with a crew cut and a young face. A new recruit from the base, Daryl suspects, and a cowardly one at that, as evidenced by the way he’s shaking all over. He gives off the air of a man who revels in the idea of war, but has never faced anything close to it outside of  _ Call of Duty _ on his Xbox. 

“Are you alone?” Carol asks. She, unlike their new friend, is steady as a rock, holding the gun expertly the way Daryl’s taught her over the years.

“Yes,” says the man.

“Liar,” Carol says. “Tell the truth. How many people are with you?”

“I ain’t lyin’, miss, I swear it. All my friends were at Fort Benning, but it got overrun. Most of ‘em is dead, s’far as I know. I got out fast as I could and came north. Been tryna make my way to Tennessee where my family’s at, but it’s been two days and I barely been able to get this far. Road’s are all blocked up. Please. I’m just tryna make sure they’re okay.”

“If you’re bullshittin’ us and you got some people who are gonna try an’ jump us…” Daryl quickly glances out the window to make sure the others are still waiting idly with no sign of trouble.

“I don’t. I swear on my grandmama’s grave.”

Daryl regards the man up and down. He seems too naive to be a liar. Slowly, Daryl lowers his crossbow.

“Don’t follow us,” Daryl tells him. “Don’t cross paths with us again.” The man nods vigorously, and Daryl turns to leave, but pauses when he sees Carol still pointing the gun. “Carol?”

“He could have been watching,” she says. “He might have seen Jesse.”

“He’s by himself, Carol. And we ain’t stickin’ around. It don’t matter.”

“What if it does, though? What if he does have others and they track us and try to rob us?” 

“I don’t,” the man says, voice cracking from nerves, staring down the barrel of the gun and looking like he’s about to be sick.

“Shut up.”

“Babe,” Daryl says quietly. “What’re you gonna do? Shoot him for somethin’ he  _ might _ do? I know we’ve got bad blood with strangers, but we ain’t murderers, Carol.”

It’s still several tense seconds before Carol lowers the gun to her side with a scowl.

“I hope you’re right about him,” she mutters, and Daryl thinks he hears an unspoken,  _ because you weren’t right about _ them _ . _ She stalks off, snagging a bag of beef jerky for Jesse on the way, before pushing the touch bar on the door and going outside.

Daryl and the man—boy, really—stare awkwardly at one another.

“Do you have any water?” the kid asks, hands still in the air. Daryl hesitates for a moment before reaching into the knapsack and tossing one of the bottles over to him. He catches it on reflex and murmurs a thanks. Daryl’s almost to the door when the kids says, “That woman’s gonna outlive the both of us, you know that?” 

Pausing with his hand on the touch bar, he asks over his shoulder, “How do you figure that?”

“Somethin’ my sergeant would say. Said that in war you have the people you know and trust, and then you got enemies. There ain’t no in between. Said that shades of grey is what gets you killed in war.” He shakes his head. “I’m a shitty soldier,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah? Well maybe you are, but what makes you think I am?”

"Easy. She wanted to shoot me,” he says. “But you gave me water.” 

*

Daryl doesn’t know what he expected to find when he got to the CDC. Aga and Clyde standing there with their hands up, Josie in tow, safe and secure? A refugee center with food, electricity, and running water to feed and bathe his kids? Truth be told, he hadn’t thought much about what he’d find, focusing his energy instead on simply  _ getting _ here, but he must have expected something, because he’s let down hard. 

Dusk is upon them, the sky yellow and pink as the sun slips away. When he kills his engine he can hear the groan of walkers, but doesn’t see them. The noise of their approach must be drawing them in. He keeps his hackles raised high while he inspects the huge building before him. It’s dark and looming and almost certainly abandoned. The energy emanating off of it is that of an old Victorian house sitting atop a foggy moor. Aga and Clyde aren’t here. If his daughter were nearby he would feel it. 

“What’s that smell?” 

Daryl startles, so lost in his thoughts staring at the building that he almost forgot the others were with him. He turns to see Glenn scrunching his face and sniffing the air.

“It smells like when daddy burns toast,” Jesse says, pinching his nose. 

Daryl had noticed the smell on his bike the closer they got to the city, but it’s even stronger now. It’s a charred and bitter odor, and he realizes the haze he thought was just weird fog that’s been getting thicker the farther north they’ve gone is actually smoke. His sense memory has him catapulting back to what had been the subject of his nightmares so many years before—this is what it smelled like when, as a child, he stood outside his blazing home, his mother locked inside.

“It’s fire,” Daryl mutters. “I dunno from where.”

“There aren’t any small fires nearby or we would have seen them,” Maggie says. “So it must be a  _ big _ fire somewhere else.”

“What direction is the wind coming in from, Daryl?” Rick asks.

“Northeast,” Daryl says after thinking about it for a second. 

“Downtown,” Michonne says. “It’s coming from downtown.” 

“You don’t think…” Glenn bounces his gaze from one person to the other anxiously.

“I bet they torched the city,” Carol says quietly. Everyone stares at her.

“All those people, though,” Beth says, bringing her hands to her mouth.

“We don’t know anything for certain,” Hershel says, putting a hand around his younger daughter’s shoulder. “For now we’re going to focus on the issue at hand. Daryl? Carol? We’ve made it to the CDC. What’s our next step?” 

“I don’t think she’s here, Daryl,” Carol says to him only. Daryl lets out a long exhale and nods.

“Me either,” he agrees reluctantly. 

“We should at least see if there’s anyone inside,” Rick says. “Maybe they were here but got sent away by someone and they’ll be able to tell us which way they went. Or hell, maybe they’re in there. We can’t know that from out here.”

“The place looks straight up deserted, dude,” Glenn says, eyeing the dark building with the same doubt Daryl has. 

“We need to try,” Rick says resolutely, and starts towards the building. The rest of them hesitate, before following along. 

They come to an entrance that’s more like a garage door. There is no handle. They aren’t at the front of the building, and there are no signs telling them which way to go, so Rick pounds on the metal door with his fist, the sound reverberating through the quiet dusk. 

“No one’s answering,” Michonne says softly, but Rick isn’t deterred yet. He bangs again, harder this time.

“Momma,” Jesse says. Daryl glances at where his son is standing hand-in-hand with Carol and sees him pointing. Following his finger, Daryl sees the walkers he heard earlier. All two dozen of them.

“Rick, man, we gotta go,” Glenn says, seeing the walkers as well. He grabs Rick’s forearm, but he shrugs him away.

“No, look!” Now Rick is pointing, his finger aimed at a security camera above them on the side of the wall. “It moved. I saw it move. Someone’s inside.”

“It’s prob’ly motion sensored, dude. C’mon, we hafta get the hell out of here,” Daryl says.

“And go  _ where _ ?” Rick snaps. The walkers are getting closer. Daryl arms his crossbow and shoots down the one closest to them.

“Anywhere but here.” 

“There’s someone inside,” Rick insists. “And there’s shelter in there.” To the camera he shouts, “Let us in! Please!”

“Son, maybe you should listen to the others,” Hershel says.

“ _ Rick, _ ” Carol says severely, picking Jesse up into her arms and walking backwards away from the walkers. 

Henry bares his teeth, growling.

“We have a kid with us,” Rick continues to yell. “For the love of God, help us.” 

“Rick! There’s nobody there,” Michonne yells. “And we have to  _ go _ .” 

Rick stares at his girlfriend, lower lip between his teeth. He’s about to concede defeat, Daryl can tell, but he’s not sure what good it’ll do. Even more walkers are coming out from the shadows, blocking the way back to their vehicles. 

Daryl readies another bolt, and is about to let it fly, when a rumbling noise catches him off guard. He spins on his heel and watches as the door to the CDC begins to rise, a beam of light flooding out through the opening—an invitation to come inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aslkfjlksaas;a
> 
> i have had honest-to-god writer's block for weeeeks in regards to this chapter. i've never had that problem with scrap metal. it's movement scenes. movement scenes are killers. 
> 
> that being said, sorry this chapter is 1. so late, and 2. so short. if it had been any longer it would have just been more "they went here, and then went here, and, plot twist! they went somewhere else!" i think we all can do without that.
> 
> the next chapter should be way easier in terms of fun for me to write, which usually means me writing something that makes you guys yell at me, so im excited for that. i'm working on "romancing the undertaker" for a few days, tho. i need a break to recover from this hell chapter.
> 
> anyway! see you...fuck if i know? next monday? next tuesday? time isn't real, fam, we're all living in one infinite moment, so really, what even is a deadline?
> 
> k, i'm shutting up now, bye,
> 
> -diz


	9. A More Merciful Way to Die

_(12:09p) *We can't have these babies, there are too many ways for them to die.*_

_(12:13p) -um wheres tht coming from?-_

_(12:15p) *I clicked on a link for a news article about a toddler who fell into his grandparent's swimming pool and drowned in like the two seconds he was left unattended, and then I proceeded to fall down an internet rabbit hole of tragic child deaths.*_

_(12:15p) *There are many.*_

_(12:15p) *Way too many, and we can't risk that, so we're gonna have to nix the whole twins idea.*_

_(12:19p) -slight problem w/ tht. ur 33 weeks pregnant n also we alrdy spent a buncha $ on them so we mite as well go thru w/ it-_

_(12:21p) *Ok, but consider: two babies means twice the chance that something bad is going to happen.*_

_(12:21p) *What if one of them gets eaten by a snake? I read an article about a baby that got eaten by a snake.*_

_(12:23p) -our kids rnt gna get eaten by any snakes sweetheart theyre gna b fine-_

_(12:26p) *But see, you don't know that for certain. How can we parent knowing how scary the world is?*_

_(12:26p) *Bubbles. Let's keep them in protective bubbles, where they can't ever get hurt or sick.*_

_(12:30p) -mk first things first close google-_

_(12:32p) *But I need to finish reading about this tragic washing machine incident.*_

_(12:33p) -close google bb-_

_(12:35p) *Ugh, fine, exited the window. The world is still a horrifying, dangerous place tho, even with my browser closed.*_

_(12:38p) -rmbr doc said these sorts of worries r normal-_

_(12:38p) -u kno im up in my head all the damn time-_

_(12:38p) -we're gna b ok tho we r gna keep them safe n healthy best we can-_

_(12:41p) *What if something happens to our babies, Daryl? How would we ever survive that?*_

_(12:42p) -it aint gna do either of us any gud worrying abt it. we just gotta take on each day-_

_(12:43p) *That's awful and I hate it and I'm crying bc I can't turn my brain off.*_

_(12:45p) -wnt me 2 c if i can come home early?-_

_(12:46p) *No, you skipped your last weekend shift for me last week when I was crying about the bee population.*_

_(12:48p) -gna come home anyway axel said its nbd he'll cover-_

_(12:48p) -i'll b there soon pick smthn 2 watch n i'll grab us snacks-_

_(12:49p) *I don't deserve you. :( *_

_(12:49p) *Also I want Doritos but I don't know what kind so you have to get all of them.*_

_(12:52p) -600 bags of diff flavors of doritos got it-_

_(12:53p) -c u soon bb ilu. i promise we're gna b ok-_

_(12:54p) *Holding you to that.*_

_(12:55p) *xoxo*_

*

“Do you have what you need? Once I lock these doors they’re not opening again.”

All of them spin to face an unassuming man watching them with his arms crossed, a crease between his brows. He’s in a t-shirt and jeans, his blonde hair thinning, and lines of exhaustion etching his face. His gaze falls on Jesse, still clinging to his mother like his life depends on it, his #2 teddy bear squished against his torso, and the man’s expression softens into something sadder.

“We have everything,” Rick says. “And even if we didn’t, we won’t be able to get to our cars until morning. Walkers are swarming the place.” 

“Walkers,” the man says, a faint smile on his lips. “Is that what you call them?”

“Good a name as any,” Glenn says. His eyes are darting around the room nervously.

“A little girl,” Daryl says then. “Have you seen a little girl? She’d be with a man and woman. Long dark hair, freckles, looks kinda like me?”

The man regards Daryl up and down, taking in the film of dirt on his skin, the crossbow dangling at his side, and the fear and anticipation surely written all over his expression. Slowly, the man shakes his head, and Daryl, who wasn’t expecting a yes in the first place, is crestfallen anyway. At his side, Carol’s posture slumps, and he knows then that she was holding onto that inkling of hope too.

“What’s your name?” Jesse asks the man, lifting his head enough to peek at him. For a second the man seems mystified, as though, out of everyone in this odd group, he didn’t expect to be addressed by the child, but he smiles kindly at Jesse.

“I’m Dr. Edwin Jenner,” the man says.

“My name is Jesse Dixon, and this is my momma and my daddy and our puppy Henry.” He frowns and looks at Daryl and says, “Captain Beef Stew is still in the car.”

“It’s okay, he’ll be warm and safe in there,” Daryl tells his son, not one hundred percent it’s true, but not about to say so. Jesse accepts this answer and turns back to Jenner.

“Captain Beef Stew is my pet salamander,” Jesse explains. Jenner raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it. “Also these are all our friends.” Jesse points at every single person in the room and identifies them by name, his intrinsic need to talk as much as humanly possible overriding his trepidation. Jenner takes a step forward and everyone tenses, but he merely holds a hand out to Jesse, who politely shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, Jesse Dixon,” Jenner says.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jesse replies, taking his hand back and wrapping it around Carol again. “You said to my daddy that you haven’t seen my sissy. Are you sure? She’s the same age as me except ten minutes older and she’s kind of mean but just sometimes, like when you say something dumb or if she is feeling grumpy.”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen her,” Dr. Jenner says, and Jesse deflates worse than Carol or Daryl.

“Where’s everybody else?” Rick asks. Jenner turns his attention to him and frowns.

“Everybody else?” he asks.

“The other doctors. Scientists. Anyone who works here,” Maggie says. Jenner holds his arms out to his sides and shrugs.

“I’m it,” he says simply. “I’m all that’s left.”

“There’s no one but you in this entire building?” Michonne asks, hand clamped over the strap of her katana slung across her shoulder. Jenner’s arms fall back down like weights and a dark expression washes over his face.

“I’m it,” he repeats.

“Did they die?” Jesse asks quietly. Carol’s grip tightens around him, and Daryl places a hand on his son’s back. Jenner stares at Jesse for a long time, and Daryl can see he’s debating on how much truth to tell this child.

“Some of them went home to their families. But yes. Some did die,” he says finally. Jesse twists his mouth, thinking.

“My Uncle Merle and Auntie Barb died too,” Jesse informs Jenner.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jenner says, and he seems sincere.

“If you are a doctor then can you fix my daddy’s leg? A bad person shooted him and now he is walking funny ‘cause it hurts. He said he is okay, but when he takes steps he makes a crumply paper face.”

“A...what’s a crumply paper face?” Jenner asks.

“When you crumple a piece of paper and it gets all wrinkled,” Jesse explains, and then demonstrates by scrunching his own face, bringing about a scatter of small laughs across the group. 

“I see.” To Daryl, Jenner asks, “Shot? By whom?”

“Long story,” Daryl says. 

“We’ve been through a lot in a very short period of time,” Rick speaks up, saving Daryl the pain of recounting his daughter’s kidnapping just yet. “Things are falling apart out there faster than we can keep up with. Will you help us?”

There’s clear defeat in Jenner’s expression. He looks from one face to another and blows out a tremendous breath.

“You all have to submit to a blood test,” he says finally. “That’s the price of admission. But if you’re clean...well, then I’ll let you stay.”

*

“See, easy as pie, sweet potato. Easy as sweet potato pie,” Carol says, as Jenner places a piece of cotton in the crook of her elbow and tapes it down. She bends her arm, putting pressure on the tiny wound, and gives Jesse a reassuring smile. Jesse’s eyes flit between his mother and the vial of her bright red blood Jenner is setting aside with the other samples.

“Your momma and me did it and nothin’ bad happened. A lil’ pinch, that’s all,” Daryl says. Truth be told, between getting shot, being pistol whipped, and getting a blood draw, Daryl’s body kind of feels like it’s been hit by a garbage truck and then got left to rot at the dump, but he’s not going to let his son see that. Not when he can audibly hear Jesse gulp as Jenner readies the next syringe.

“Do I have to? I promise I’m not sick,” Jesse says, keeping his arms crossed tight.

“I know, baby, but Dr. Jenner just needs to make sure. Sometimes you can be sick on the inside even when you’re feeling okay,” Carol explains, and Jesse sighs heavily.

“It’s for the vampires,” Glenn says then. Jesse frowns at him.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear?” Glenn asks. “There are these new vampires who don’t want to hurt anybody, so they ask people like us to share some of our blood with them so they can still eat.”

Jesse’s lips quirk up.

“But why do they need _ my _ blood? They already have lots from you guys.”

“They have our blood for main courses, but you’ve got special blood. Since you’re so darn sweet you taste like sugar, so the vampires drink your blood for dessert. You don’t want them to not get dessert, do you?” Glenn asks seriously.

“Hmm,” Jesse hums. “Joey is always less grumpy when she gets to eat chocolate for dessert. Will my blood make the vampires nicer like how chocolate does for Joey?”

Daryl’s whole being aches for his daughter even worse every time Jesse talks about her, because he knows Jesse and Josie have a connection he’ll never understand, not being a twin himself. Wherever Josie is, Daryl’s certain she misses her brother just as much as he misses her. 

He forces the pain down, however, and backs Glenn up, saying, “The vamps are gonna go buckwild, lil’ man. They don’t get dessert that often. You’ll be doin’ them a real solid.”

“Mm, but what if they want more?” Jesse asks warily. Carol pinches his cheek.

“Even vampires can only have a little dessert,” she says. “Too much will rot their teeth, and their teeth are kinda their whole thing. Can you imagine a bunch of toothless vampires? Nah, they’d get made fun of at all the vampire parties. They only need a teeny tiny bit of Jesse blood.”

Jesse squares his shoulders, and with a deep inhale he presents his arm to Jenner.

“For the vampires,” he says, the fear evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t waver, and Daryl is so proud of his brave son.

Jenner nods sagely, swabbing Jesse’s skin with alcohol.

“For the vampires,” he agrees.

*

The first thing Jenner does is show them to their rooms.

The place is set up to accommodate all the doctors and scientists—the bulk of whom Daryl has ascertained are not only no longer on the premises, but no longer on this Earth in general—so they have their pick of the litter.

It’s like a hotel, or maybe an AirBnB, with enough space for all of them to have privacy, and if he could turn his mind off for even a second, Daryl could pretend that this is some kind of vacation; that he and his family are visiting a cool Georgia landmark, instead of the truth, which is that they’re stuck, hiding from monsters and searching for Josie, in addition to searching for answers.

The group is told to set their belongings in their rooms and then join Jenner for dinner where he’ll tell them what he knows. Hovering in the doorway, Daryl and Carol are hesitant, and it only takes them a moment to silently agree that they’re not parting with their things. As Hershel said, resources seem to already be disappearing, and over half of their supplies is still outside in their cars, barricaded by a wall of walkers, and they can’t risk losing what little they brought with them inside.

Jesse seems to agree, clutching his teddy bear for dear life, mumbling concern about his poor salamander all alone in Rick and Michonne’s car. The three of them leave the room with all of their things still on their person. When they join the others, they find that they’ve all done the same.

Daryl hadn’t realized how much he was already missing hot meals until he now, while he sits at the long table in what appears to be a small cafeteria, where Jenner has laid out mashed potatoes and Salsibury steak. The potatoes are instant, and the steaks are from a frozen box, but Daryl accepts a plateful along with a wheat roll from a package. Eating a filling, cooked meal is satisfying in its own right, but he’s especially grateful that his wife and son have something of substance to eat after several days of poor excuses for meals with food looted from the dollar store.

His friends seem to agree, spirits noticeably higher once everyone is a few bites in, and when Jenner brings out a couple bottles of cheap wine, it doesn’t take long for glasses to get filled.

When a bottle is offered his way he passes on it with a muted, “No thanks.” Truth be told, a good buzz sounds pretty excellent right now, but that’s precisely why he refuses. It’s a rule of his that he doesn’t dull pain—both physical and mental—with drugs, no matter how appealing. At the very least, it’d be an insult to Merle’s memory to fall so easily into stereotypical Dixon habits.

Carol pours herself a big glass full and then looks to him with a guilty expression on her face, but he waves it away.

“S’fine,” he tells her. It’s one thing to deny himself reprieve from anything, but it’s much harder for him to encourage Carol to feel every inch of what they’re going through. His instinct to keep her as happy as possible always overrides the voice in his head that reminds him that her history of escapism is something to keep tabs on as much as his own. Maybe more so.

“I don't mean to sound ungrateful,” Hershel says once almost everybody has had at least one helping of food, and one (or two) glasses of wine. “But I would be lying if I said we weren't all more than a little bit curious about your knowledge of what seems to be quite the epidemic. Would you be willing to share what you know with us?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. You're the ones who have been out there. With firsthand experience it's entirely possible that you know more than I do at this point,” Jenner says, pushing barely eaten food around on his plate, mashing steak and potatoes together with the back of his fork like a restless child would.

“But you must know something,” Glenn says, Maggie nodding in agreement beside him. “I mean, you’re a scientist that studies diseases, right? This is like, your wheelhouse.” 

“I’m not sure you could call this particular predicament anybody’s ‘wheelhouse’,” Jenner scoffs, taking a long drink from his wine glass before continuing. “We did research,” he says finally, sounding resigned. “As soon as we realized the scope of what we were dealing with, we all jumped into action. We ran numbers, compared data, went through archives of every possible virus or bacteria known to man to see if it would give us any inkling of an answer, but it was faster than we were. It spread at an unimaginable speed, and before we knew it...Hell, the sky was falling, and many of my colleagues, the ones who didn’t leave to be with their families...well let’s just say that they decided to opt out.”

He drinks again.

The rest of them shift awkwardly in their seats.

“How far has it spread?” Carol asks, her plate of food fuller than Daryl would like. Just like Jenner, she plays with it more than eats it, hardly paying attention to the slop she’s mixing together, as if she’s forgotten it’s there altogether.

Jenner clicks his tongue.

“My last correspondence before the lines went dead was with an ambassador in France who thought they may be on the verge of being on the verge of an answer,” he says.

“Which means you know nothing,” Carol states flatly. Jenner holds Carol’s eye silently, until she sucks on the inside of her cheek and looks away from him, training her gaze on the back wall.

“France is on the other side of the ocean,” Jesse says.

“It is,” Jenner agrees.

“That is pretty far away.”

“It is.”

“Don’t worry about that, baby,” Daryl mutters, wrapping an arm around Jesse, who’s comically small in the adult chair he’s sat in. Automatically, Jesse leans into the touch, and Daryl scoops him up and sets him on his lap, resting his chin on top of his mop of fluffy hair and hugging him close.

“So are you saying there’s nothing we can do to save anyone?” Beth asks in her meekish voice. “That everyone who’s infected is just going to die?”

“Beth,” Hershel says under his breath. “Be mindful of who’s all at the table.” He nods discreetly towards Jesse who is listening to everyone speak with his interest piqued. Without Josie there to pay attention for him, eavesdropping on the adults is a task that has fallen to him and he is doing his due diligence.

Jenner takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

“You’re all exhausted,” he says, and his evasiveness isn’t lost on Daryl. “You’re welcome to make yourselves comfortable, just don’t use anything that will draw excess power. There’s hot water for showers, but go easy on it. Clean yourselves up, get the grit from your days on the road off of you, and get some sleep. We can pick this up in the morning.”

“We can’t stay,” Daryl protests. “If my daughter ain’t here then we ain’t sayin’. Soon as it’s daylight we gotta try and pick up a trail to follow.”

“What if Aga and Clyde are still headed here, but got caught up in the roadblocks like we did?” Glenn asks. “Maybe we pulled ahead on accident and they’re a few hours behind.”

“Yeah, or maybe they got caught up in a roadblock and went and got themselves lost in the woods with nothin’ on them but the shit they stole from our van. I don’t trust them roughin’ it. Not with my baby with ‘em.” 

“We’re not giving up the search, Daryl,” Michonne says levelly. “But the more knowledge we have the better off we are out there.”

“There’s nothing we can do tonight,” Rick says. “We’ll do as Jenner says and all try to get some sleep, and then take tomorrow as it comes.”

Daryl and Rick exchange a look for a solid couple of beats before Daryl nods reluctantly.

“What do you think about it, sweetheart?” Daryl mutters to Carol. She startles at being addressed, lost in thought, and blinks at him like she’s trying to get him in focus.

“We need to get Jesse to bed,” she says, and Daryl isn’t sure if it’s the wine or not, but she sounds dazed and distant. “Let’s just...can we just take care of Jesse right now?” 

“I’m okay, momma,” Jesse tells Carol, but Carol doesn’t look at or respond to him.

Daryl chews on his lower lip, worried that everything is hitting her at once. 

“Okay We’ll take care of Jesse,” he says aloud.

And in his head he adds, 

_ And I’ll take care of you. _

*

Back in their room, Carol sets up a cot and makes up a sleeping space for Jesse on the couch, while Daryl helps Jesse shower. After drying him off with a towel, Daryl rifles through the few clothes they have and puts Jesse in one of his own flannels, which hangs on his son like a dress, going well past his knees.

The two of them emerge from the bathroom to find Carol sitting on the end of the cot, slumped forward with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands steepled and pressed against her mouth. When they enter she snaps out of it and gives a tight smile.

“All clean?” she asks, and she’s asking Jesse but looks at Daryl when she says it.

“Mhm. I got to take a shower instead of a bath like adults do,” Jesse says proudly. Carol hums absently at him.

“Doin’ a lot of big kid stuff lately, huh,” Daryl says, taking Jesse by the shoulders and leading him over to the couch. “Even big kids need’ta sleep though, so why don’t you climb on up here and we’ll tuck you in, alright?”

“I’m gonna go down to the cafeteria real fast and see if Jenner has any glasses we can use for water. You know how Jesse gets thirsty in the middle of the night,” Carol says, suddenly getting to her feet and heading towards the door.

“Momma, you don’t hafta leave, I don’t feel thirsty right now,” Jesse says, frowning at Carol as he slips under a thick, beige comforter.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, daddy will get you all tucked in and then we’ll both be right here in the bed next to you.” 

Carol doesn’t wait for a reply. She shows herself out, shutting the door behind her.

“Is momma okay?” Jesse asks Daryl. Daryl pushes Jesse’s damp hair back and leans down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Yeah, bud, momma’s fine, she’ll be right back like she said.” 

“Okay,” Jesse says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but instead of words he lets out a wet sneeze.

“Bless you,” Daryl says, reaching over to a kleenex box on a side table and snatching a tissue out of it. He gets down on his knees and wipes his son’s nose. The wound in his leg protests, dulled a little by the aspirin Jenner gave him.

“Are we gonna find Joey tomorrow, daddy?” Jesse asks after Daryl’s cleaned up all his snot. Tossing the balled up tissue into a wastebasket, Daryl takes Jesse’s hand and squeezes it.

“We’re gonna try real, real hard,” he says, and despite a slight furrow in his brow, Jesse nods. “Tell you what? I bet Henry would like to sleep with you tonight. What do you say? Since Cap’n is in the car maybe he can keep you company.”

“That’s a good idea. He pro’ly needs extra cuddles since Joey isn’t here. He pro’ly misses her.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, bud,” Daryl says softly. “I do, too. Real bad. But we’ll find her, okay? Promise.”

“Alright,” Jesse says. Daryl kisses his son’s knuckles before pushing himself up to stand. Patting the end of the couch, Daryl whistles to Henry, who looks over from where he’s curled up in the corner of the room, the tags on his collar jangling. 

“C’mere, boy,” Daryl says, and without another word, Henry comes and leaps onto the couch, lying down and resting his chin on where Jesse’s feet are under the covers. 

Jesse reaches over and gives Henry light nose scratches, and mutters, “Good puppy.”

“You cozy, kiddo? Got enough blankets?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then I’m gonna take a shower, ‘cause I’m real smelly,” Daryl says, making Jesse giggle. “But Imma keep the door cracked, and momma will be back in just a minute, so don’t you worry about nothin’, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“G’night, baby,” Daryl says, leaning over to kiss Jesse on the forehead one more time. Jesse lifts his teddy bear Carol set on the couch for him while he was in the bathroom and waits expectantly. Daryl huffs a laugh before giving the teddy bear a forehead kiss too. 

“Love you, daddy,” Jesse says, burrowing deeper into the cushiony couch and clutching his bear, sounding tired already.

“Love the hell outta you, kid. Get some sleep.” 

Daryl turns off the overhead light, but leaves the lamp on. He stands there a while, watching Jesse rub an itch on his nose and rustle around a little more. Reluctantly, Daryl goes into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked as promised, and strips his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He turns on the water and waits for it to heat up a few degrees above lukewarm, heeding Jenner’s request, and steps under the stream, letting out a long sigh.

For a few minutes he just stands there, letting the water massage his body. It works out the kinks in his muscles from sleeping on the ground, and it soothes the constant background drone of his headache behind his purple bruise. Carefully, he pulls the bandage and gauze off his leg, wincing as the tape snags on his hair, and examines the neat row of stitches on his thigh, only an inch or two below the scar from his femur surgery in what seems like a whole other lifetime. The skin around the wound is light-red but cool to the touch, no sign of infection, and Daryl soaps it gently, intending to keep it that way.

Always aware of his surroundings, even before it was a matter of life or death, Daryl hears Carol return to the room. He listens to her move around, until her footsteps lead into the bathroom, and he waits as she too rids herself of her clothes and opens the shower door. 

Silently, she steps inside, naked as the day she was born, and enters Daryl’s personal space. Daryl embraces her and places his hands on the small of her back. She presses a couple wet kisses on his chest, before resting her forehead on his sternum and letting the water rush over her. Her hair brushes over Daryl’s fingers as her curls, which usually hides the true length of her hair, are stretched out with the weight of the water. Daryl rubs circles along her tailbone and nuzzles the top of her head. 

“Did you say goodnight to JJ?” Daryl asks, breaking the silence.

“He was already asleep,” Carol says, voice nearly lost with her head bowed and the shower running.

“He was wondering if you were okay since you didn’t stay to tuck him in.”

“Didn’t mean to worry him,” she says. Pulling away just enough to tilt her chin up, she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. Daryl kisses her back, humming when her hands run up the length of his spine. 

“_ Are _ you okay?” he mumbles against her lips.

“That’s a stupid question,” she replies, brushing her nose against his. “None of us is okay.” 

“You know what I mean, though.” He leans back to meet her eye. “Jenner’ll tell us what he knows in the mornin’, and then we can go back to the search. We’ll figure out where those assholes went and track ‘em down.”

“Oh baby,” Carol says, cupping Daryl’s cheek and shaking her head. “Jenner doesn’t know shit. Didn’t you see his face? To him we’ve already lost. There’s no going back. He didn’t say it but he didn’t need to: This is the end of the world.”

Daryl swallows. Searching his wife’s expression all he finds is cool calculation; logic void of emotion.

“Screw Jenner,” he says. “The only thing that matters right now is finding our baby. And we _ will _ find her, Carol. I swore to you and I meant it.”

“I know,” Carol says. She leans up and kisses him once more. “But what do we do after that?”

*

_ Daryl wakes up in the middle of the night to find Carol missing from beside him on the bed. He blinks blearily in the dark over at the green light on the baby monitor, but there’s no fussing coming from the other end. Yawning, he rolls out of bed and pads out of the room, figuring he might as well check on the twins in case they woke Carol up and she could use a hand. _

_ In the glow of the nursery nightlight, he does find Carol, but she’s not feeding or changing any babies. Instead, she’s standing right in between their two cribs and is watching them sleep. Careful not to make too much noise, Daryl goes inside and puts a hand on Carol’s waist. _

_ “Shh, just me,” Daryl whispers when she startles. She instantly calms and gives him a small smile when he kisses her on the cheek. “What’re you doin’ up?” he asks, loud as he dares with two sleeping infants close by. _

_ “I dunno,” she whispers back with a shrug. “I wanted to see them.” _

_ Daryl nods in understanding. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes forgo his own sleep to hang around and watch the twins. There are few things more soothing than seeing his children resting and breathing peacefully. _

_ He watches them now with Carol. Jesse is in a yellow onesie with a cartoon owl on the front, and Josie’s in a purple one decorated in stars and moons. Both of them have their hands folded into fists up by their faces, their chests moving up and down as they inhale and exhale with their tiny lungs. Josie’s hair has been getting darker, and Jesse’s fluffier, and the two twins, although grown together in the same womb, look very different from one another. _

_ “They scare me sometimes,” Carol whispers into the quiet of the room. _

_ “How do you mean?” Daryl asks. He waits patiently as Carol twists her mouth and collects her thoughts. _

_ “I love them,” she says finally. “I love them more than I’ve ever loved anything. Like, if you had tried to explain to me, even when I was pregnant, how much I was going to love them there was no way I would have been able to grasp just how intense it was going to be. There aren’t words for it, you know? It just has to be felt.” _

_ “I get that. I feel it too.” _

_ “Yeah, but love like that can be terrifying, because as their mother everything I do affects them, and I love them so much that I’m always afraid of failing them. That’s why whenever my postpartum depression flares up my first instinct is to pull away from them, because if there’s distance between us then I won’t hurt them as badly when I inevitably fuck it all up.” _

_ “You know that’s bull, though, right?” Daryl asks, nuzzling the side of her face. _

_ “I do,” she says. “And lord knows my therapist has heard about it so much I wouldn’t be surprised if she had to get her own therapist just to bitch about me, but sometimes I still hear that voice in my head telling me that if I let myself feel how crazy in love I am with these little shits then it’ll hurt us all so bad. It’s like my brain wants to constantly play twenty questions with me, only it’s more like ten thousand questions, and they’re all things like, ‘What if you get Huntington’s and they have to watch you die?’ or ‘What if you actually suck ass at being a mom, and are gonna fuck them up irreprably?’ or, god forbid, ‘What if something happens to them and you have to live with letting them get hurt?’” Carol huffs a sigh. “It’d be so much easier to parent if I didn’t love them.” _

_ “Yeah, maybe, but tryna convince yourself to clean up the shitty diapers of someone you only kinda like is pro’ly harder than you’d think,” Daryl says, and Carol laughs quietly. _

_ “Yeah, I guess that’s true. That’s probably why we’re biologically wired to love our kids so much. There’s no one else who could throw up in my hair and make my first reaction be to hug and kiss them and make sure they’re okay before even registering the digested milk shampoo.” _

_ “Gross,” Daryl says, pressing his lips to the pulse point below her ear. “Hey?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “You know distancing yourself from them wouldn’t solve nothin’, right? They love you, too. Need you to be present for ‘em.” _

_ “I know,” Carol says, looking from one baby to the other. “I just sometimes have to fight myself about it, before the fear and doubt gets too loud and I can’t hear my rational brain over it.” _

_ “If it ever starts gettin’ too loud you tell me and I’ll talk you straight, okay?” _

_ “Okay.” She leans back against Daryl and sighs again. “I’d never give them up for anything,” she whispers. “But on my life there’s nothing scarier in this world than being a mom.” _

_ “Nah there ain’t,” Daryl agrees. “Or bein’ a dad. But it’s worth it.” _

_ Carol hums in agreement. Daryl wraps his arms around her and rocks her gently to and fro, the two of them standing in the dim light of the nursery, neither ready to have their children out of their sight. Not that they’d ever be ready. But for tonight they have a choice in the matter, and so they stay. _

*

After a fitful sleep, Daryl, Carol, and Jesse get washed up and dressed at first light, and rendezvous with the rest of the group in the cafeteria. Daryl sits impatiently through a breakfast of powdered eggs and orange juice, busying himself by making sure Jesse eats everything on his plate, and worrying when Carol doesn’t.

Once everyone has had their fill, Jenner, still with that perpetually resigned expression, leads them through a corridor that opens into a large room full of computers, screens, and equipment Daryl couldn’t even begin to tell you the purpose of. 

“VI, lights,” Jenner says when they go through the doorway. A series of fluorescent lights flicker on above them, and everyone looks up instinctively.

“Who’s VI?” Glenn asks. 

At his question, Jenner smirks and says, “VI, say hello to our guests. Tell them, ‘Welcome’.” 

“Welcome,” comes a loud robotic female voice, and if he didn’t already, Daryl definitely now feels as though he’s stepped inside of a sci-fi movie.

“Who’s that voice?” Jesse asks, glancing around the walls, trying to find the source.

“It’s his computer,” Carol says, watching Jenner. “That’s all you’ve had by way of company for a while, huh?”

“She’s a better conversationalist than you might think,” Jenner deadpans to Carol, who raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else. 

“So are you gonna tell us what’s up or not?” Daryl asks, more than ready to leave and get back to the search. “Either tell us what you know about all’a this or let us be on our way.”

Jenner stares at Daryl for a beat too long to be comfortable.

“VI,” Jenner says. “Present elapsed video of TS-19.”

Directly following this command, one of the giant screens on the wall lights up and shows what appears to be a pre-recorded video of a…

“Is that a brain?” Michonne asks, squinting up at the image. 

“Yes,” Jenner says. “An extraordinary one.”

“Why are there lights?” Jesse asks. In the skull of the person on display there are an array of colors and lights all moving around like little bursts of lightning.

“Those are called synapses,” Jenner says. He points at the screen and explains, “What’s happening in this brain is what’s happening inside all of your brains. These synapses are constantly firing, making up every movement, action, thought—_ everything _ that makes you _ you _ is housed in these lights.” 

Suddenly, the recording shows a dark substance seeping through all the nerves in the brain.

“What’s happening to it?” Glenn asks. 

“This is test subject nineteen,” Jenner says, watching the screen intently. “The subject was someone who was bitten and agreed to let us observe the process of infection in hopes that it would help us figure out a cure. What we discovered here is that the infection attacks the brain, overtaking it until—” The brain, previously full of firing synapses, goes black. “—it eventually claims the victim.”

“That person died?” Beth asks. 

“Yes,” Jenner says flatly. “Now we have varying reports on how long resurgence takes. We’ve seen it happen in as short as three minutes. The longest on record is eight hours. For TS-19, resurgence occurred after two hours, one minute, and seven seconds.”

The base of the brain begins a flurry of activity, depicted in a dull red.

“It made them come back to life?” Rick asks, but Jenner shakes his head.

“Jesse, you asked about the lights. Do you see them now?”

“No,” Jesse says, enraptured, eyes glued to the screen. “Just the red.”

“That’s right,” Jenner says. “The infection kickstarts the brain, but only in the most basic sense. Everything you saw before—those synapses that make up who we are—have disappeared, and all we’re left with is an empty shell driven purely by primal need. Nothing else.”

Suddenly, something goes streaking through the brain, leaving behind a diagonal valley in its wake. 

“What the hell was that?” Glenn asks.

“He shot his patient in the head,” Carol says quietly. Jenner doesn’t contradict her. “So what now?” she continues. “You got this information from TS-19. What did you do with it? What’d you find out?” When Jenner still doesn’t reply, Carol nods with a humorless smile on her lips. “You didn’t find out anything, did you?”

“Like I said,” Jenner says. “The French were the last ones I spoke to who were close to anything.”

“Figures it had to be France,” Carol mutters. She crosses her arms and looks at the ground.

“Dr. Jenner?” Jesse asks, raising his hand like he’s in class. 

“Yes?” Jenner asks, and Jesse points at the wall adjacent to them.

“Why is your clock going backwards?” 

The group all follows Jesse’s finger to where a large digital timer reads “15:42”, and then “15:41”, and “15:40”, and so on. 

“Dr. Jenner, what happens when that timer hits zero?” Hershel asks. 

“That’s, uh,” Jenner says, walking over to one of his computer consoles. “That’s when the generators run out of power.”

“What happens when the generators run out of power?” Rick asks. When Jenner doesn’t respond, Rick looks up at the ceiling and says, “VI, what happens when the generators run out of power?”

“In the event of catastrophic power failure system-wide decontamination is programmed to go into effect,” VI’s robotic voice says, and while Daryl doesn’t know what that means exactly, he knows he doesn’t like the sound of it. 

“What’s it mean by ‘decontamination’?” Daryl asks. Jenner ignores him and instead punches a few numbers into a pad on a desk, and at once, all the doors leading into the room fall shut and click.

“Did you just lock us in here?” Maggie asks, the tension in the room rising to an almost unbearable degree. Daryl takes a step closer to Carol, Jesse between them, and asks again,

“What the hell’s it mean by ‘decontamination’?” 

“It means that the system will employ HITs,” Jenner says, sitting in a desk chair. 

“The fuck’s an HIT?” Daryl asks. Jesse grabs onto his pant leg and Daryl hugs him close.

Jenner twists his mouth and says, “VI, define.”

“HITs,” VI says, “Are high-impulse thermobaric fuel air explosives.”

“Explosives?” Glenn asks in a strangled tone. Jenner wets his bottom lip and shrugs.

“It sets the air on fire,” he says. 

“Okay, fuck this, we’re outta here. Rick, Glenn, c’mon and help me with these doors,” Daryl says, snapping his fingers as he runs to the nearest closed door. Glenn and Rick rush after him. 

They try pulling it open, but it’s sealed shut. Daryl kicks at it, but it doesn’t budge. Glenn even goes as far as grabbing the pickaxe Hershel has been carrying as a weapon and swinging it against it, but the glass is too thick. The clock on the wall is down to ten minutes.

“You son of a bitch,” Daryl yells at Jenner. “Open the goddamn door.”

“I told you. Didn’t I say? When the doors shut they weren’t opening again, that’s the first thing I said.”

“You can’t expect us to have known you meant this,” Hershel says, Beth burying her face in his side, crying.

“You can’t keep us locked in here,” Carol hisses, trembling.

Daryl, Rick, and Glenn run back down to the group. Seeing red, Daryl gets in Jenner’s face and shoves his shoulders, nearly knocking him backwards off his chair.

“Open the doors,” Daryl says. “Now.”

“Don’t you see how this is better?” Jenner asks, incredulous. “You’ve seen what’s out there.” He points at Jesse. “His aunt and uncle, they died, right? Not pleasant deaths, I’d imagine. TS-19? My wife? Her’s certainly wasn’t. Is that what you want for yourselves? Is that really what you’d pick? Here it can be over in a millisecond. No pain. Isn’t that a more merciful way to die? A better death for your son?”

“Don’t look at him,” Daryl says, blocking Jesse from Jenner’s view. “This ain’t up to you. You’re letting us out of here so that we can survive and my wife and I can go find our daughter.”

“Your daughter’s dead, Daryl,” Jenner says. “Or if she’s not yet then she’s going to be. Eaten alive. Or succumbing to dehydration. To the elements. Outside there are a million terrible ways to go. Here you have a chance to go peacefully.”

Daryl is point five seconds away from slamming his fist into Jenner’s jaw when he hears a gun cock from behind him. He turns and sees Carol pointing a handgun directly at Jenner. Daryl takes a step out of the way as Carol walks up to Jenner and presses the barrel of the gun to his forehead.

“I don’t give a flying shit if you decide you want to, what did you call it? Opt out. That’s your decision,” Carol says in an icy undertone. “But you do _ not _get to decide how my son dies. So I’ll tell you what. You want a painless death? Well it seems to me that I’ve got…” She glances at the countdown clock. “Nearly eight minutes to make sure your death hurts a whole hell of a lot. So either open these fucking doors right now, or I’ll make sure you’ll regret every second of these last eight minutes, do you understand?” 

There’s a ringing silence, before Jenner huffs a laugh.

“You’re making a mistake,” he mutters. Louder, he says, “The outer doors are controlled by VI, I can’t open those, like I said. But…” He inputs another series of numbers into the keypad and the doors to the room open in tandem. 

“Let’s go,” Rick says, and Daryl doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes Carol by the shoulder as she puts the safety back on her gun and stuffs it away, beckoning Jesse to follow. Jesse comes to them, but hesitates. 

“Dr. Jenner you should come with us,” he says.

“JJ, c’mon,” Daryl says, taking his son by the arm and tugging.

“Hold on, daddy,” Jesse says, pulling out of Daryl’s grasp.

“There’s no time to hold on, Jesse, come on right now,” Carol says, swinging one of their bags over her shoulder in a rush.

“You listen to your mom and dad, Jesse Dixon,” Dr. Jenner says. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna be alright. I’m very happy to have met you.” He holds a hand out and Jesse takes it with a furrowed brow. Jenner then pulls Jesse to him and starts whispering something in his ear. 

“Leave my son alone,” Daryl snaps, snatching Jesse right off his feet and into his arms. Jesse stares back at Jenner who nods encouragingly at him, but Daryl doesn’t have time to figure out what that exchange was about.

“Hurry, we only have a few minutes,” Rick is hollering, already in the doorway.

“Beth, come on,” Hershel says, and Daryl sees him trying to pull Beth along with him.

“Daddy,” Beth whispers. “Maybe Dr. Jenner’s right. Maybe it’s better this way. No suffering. We could go out together. You, me, and Maggie. Go be with mom. With Jimmy.”

“Beth, stop being stupid and hurry up,” Maggie spits over her shoulder. She rushes over and helps Hershel pull her along, but she resists.

“The world’s ended. Maybe this is God’s way of grantin’ us some kind o’ mercy.”

The rest of the group watches this exchange from the doorway, the ticking down clock ever present. Daryl bounces on the balls of his feet.

“We gotta go, man,” he whispers to Rick, who nods.

“Yeah, I know,” he says.

“I can’t let Maggie’s sister die,” Glenn says. “I gotta go help ‘em. You guys go ahead and try to get those outer doors open.” At Rick and Daryl’s doubtful expressions, he snaps, “_ Go. _ I’ll be right behind you, I swear.” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Daryl mutters. He gestures for Carol to start moving. He whistles for Henry, and his family, Rick, and Michonne race through the corridor, until they get to the outer doors, where the glass seems even thicker, and they’re just as locked as the other ones were.

“Stand back,” Rick says, whipping out his gun and firing a shot that barely makes a dent. 

“Is there a button or some shit?” Daryl asks, Jesse cowering in his arms, and Henry barking madly at all the chaos. 

“Do any of us have a rifle? Maybe a stronger blast would do it?” Michonne asks.

“Wait, Rick, I have something that might help,” Carol says, like she suddenly just remembered. She starts digging in her purse while the others watch, before producing a…

“Is that a _ grenade _?” Daryl asks, baffled. Carol nods.

“Yeah,” she says, handing it to Rick, who takes it, looking just as lost. “I found it in that gas station. In that kid’s military duffel bag.” 

Daryl mouths wordlessly at her, not sure what to even say to that, but figures that now’s not the time to ask questions. 

“Do it,” he tells Rick instead, and backs up. From behind him, the others arrive, panting, Beth among them looking crestfallen. Daryl holds up a hand for them to wait as Rick pulls the pin from the grenade, tosses it, and then gets the hell out of the way.

There’s a blast and then the shattering of glass, and Daryl lets out a sigh of relief, only to be met with another wave of anxiety at the realization that he has no idea how long they have before the entire place goes up in smoke. 

“Go go go,” he yells. 

They run towards their cars, Carol and Rick taking out the couple stragglers from the swarm of walkers last night. Rick tugs open his car doors, and him, Michonne, Carol, Henry, and Daryl with Jesse in tow, cram inside it tight, while the others get in their own vehicles. 

“Get down,” Rick commands. In the front, he and Michonne duck down. Daryl instinctively drapes himself over Jesse and Carol (and Henry).

“Cover your ears,” he tells them. Jesse sticks his fingers in his ears, whimpering, and Carol puts the palms of her hands to hers. They wait an agonizing thirty seconds, and then the world explodes.

Or at least that’s what it sounds like. There’s a tremendous crash, like five lightning strikes hitting right next to them at once, and Daryl can feel heat radiating off of what must be monumental flames, the orange hue of which he can see even through his closed eyes. The whole car rattles like they’re experiencing an earthquake, and Daryl prays to a God he doesn’t know if he believes in that they’re far enough away to be spared. 

And then the rattling stops.

The thundering stops.

And Daryl dares to raise his head. 

The CDC is no more, reduced now to flaming rubble, a cloud of black smoke rising above into the sky, the smell mixing with the already pungent burnt odor of the remnants of Atlanta miles away. Jenner is gone, too, leaving the world on his own terms, just like he wanted.

Daryl sits up and helps Carol and Jesse do the same. Jesse sneezes from the debris. Rick and Michonne check each other over for injuries. Carol is breathing hard, and collapses against Daryl, hugging him tight, and Daryl pets her hair in silence. 

After a good minute has passed, Jesse starts rustling around for something on the ground.

“Look,” he says after a moment. Daryl and Carol pull apart and turn to their son. Jesse holds up a red little cage. “Captain Beef Stew is still okay!”

Carol snorts, slumping against Daryl and burying her face in his neck, shaking her head, and Daryl ruffles Jesse’s hair.

“Well, thank god for that,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -shows up to fic over a month late with starbucks- wsup?
> 
> lol, so i haven't updated for a minute, huh? sorry about that. i fell out of my routine and try as i might to get it back, it kept on not wanting to come back to me, and then guilt made it even harder, bc that makes sense, right? what i'm gonna try (heavy on the "try") is make my update day thurdsays, because i think that would work, but we'll have to see. we'll find out in a week if it works. in the interim, let me just reiterate how much i adore y'all for putting up with me. i know i was much more diligent with "jumper cables" and "check engine light", and i'm bummed that i lost that momentum. if you're still reading, bless you.
> 
> anyway, i super rushed through that last bit at the cdc, cuz i figured we all kind of know it. it was weird writing it with a totally different cast of characters than were there originally. i deadass kept forgetting hershel wasn't dale. they're both old white guys with beards, so, easy mistake, right?
> 
> also, i hand write my fics, and my handwriting is incomprehensible cursive, and the way i write "jesse" and the way i write "jenner" is nearly identical, and that was very irritating, which is why i'm happy to say that today's in memoriam is:
> 
> -dr. edwin jenner!  
-and also like, the cdc. goodbye weaponized smallpox!
> 
> and if you were wondering "where the hell do they take a dog to go to the bathroom inside of the center for disease control?" the answer is, "idk, let's just assume henry took a shit in jenner's room." fair?
> 
> until next time, mon noodles,  
-diz
> 
> p.s. the next chapter of "romancing the undertaker" is completely finished, but due to the aforementioned hand writing of my fics, i need to type it up before i can post it, but i need to go to sleep right now, because i work tonight, so depending on if i wake up in time, i'll post it before work, otherwise i'll post it tomorrow morning. if you don't read rtu, this does not apply to you, except you totally should read it, bc it's super funny. i'm super funny. how you guys deal with having someone so hilarious in your fandom is beyond me
> 
> ok bye for real


	10. Old Friends

After the blast of the explosion the group has no time to discuss their next moves, the sound drawing in the walkers that had passed by in the night. Daryl forces himself to tear away from Carol and Jesse to get on his bike. Kicking on the engine, he gestures for the others to follow, and starts off in the direction that seems the clearest. 

They don’t stop until they reach yet another blocked off stretch of highway clogged with abandoned vehicles and scattered belongings. They reconvene smack dab in the middle of the road. 

The first thing that’s brought to Daryl’s attention is that not everyone escaped the CDC unscathed. The moment their car is thrown into park, Glenn shoves the driver’s side door open and hollers for Daryl to come to him.

“Maggie’s hurt,” Glenn says before Daryl’s able to speak. “Beth too.”

Sure enough, when he peers into the car, Daryl sees Maggie holding her arms out in front of her, biting back tears, her skin a bright and angry red.

“What happened?” Daryl asks.

“Beth tried to run back into the CDC,” Glenn explains. “Maggie ran after her. Maggie managed to save them from running right into the explosion, but they both got singed. Beth’s hurt worse. I’ve got Maggie, go give Hershel a hand.”

Doing as he’s told, Daryl leaves Glenn to tend to his girlfriend and rushes over to the truck, where Hershel is trying to lift Beth out from the passenger’s side.

“Let me,” Daryl tells Hershel, squeezing in between him and the open door and scooping Beth up from under her knees and cradling her back. Awkwardly, Daryl carries her a few paces away and lays her down gingerly on a patch of dirt and weeds along the shoulder of the road.

“She just bolted,” Hershel says, kneeling beside Beth and examining her, visibly trying to keep his composure.

Beth is whimpering like an injured puppy. The right side of her face is badly burned, and a chunk of her pretty blonde hair is blackened. Daryl’s more concerned about her labored breathing, and Hershel must be too, because he says, “She inhaled a lot of smoke. I’m not sure how much. What about Maggie? Did you check on her?”

“Glenn’s got her,” Daryl says. “Looked like she has some burns but seemed alright.”

“Oh god,” Carol says, hurrying up behind Daryl to see what’s happening, Jesse at her heel.

“She got away from me,” Hershel says, lightly stroking the non-injured side of his daughter’s face. “Just took off. Maggie tackled her down, but they were too close to the heat.” 

“We should try and treat these burns first,” Daryl says, squatting down beside Beth to get a closer look at her injuries. “She’s starting to blister around her temple here, see? We need to get some water on this. Hey, Rick?” Daryl calls out to his friend over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Rick says, he and Michonne over by Glenn’s car, checking on Maggie.

“How much water do we got?” 

“We’ve got about half of what we grabbed from the dollar store, but that’s it,” Rick says. “We went through a lot of it while we were camped out.”

“Okay, well Beth needs some of it. Maggie pro’ly does, too. Do we got any towels or clean shirts that we can wet to make compresses out of?”

“I’ve got a couple of Josie’s outfits in my bag,” Carol says quietly. Daryl sucks on his cheek, closing his eyes for a beat, before blowing out a breath and nodding.

“Go get ‘em,” he mumbles, and Carol turns on the spot without another word. Jesse lingers, hovering off to the side and watching Beth warily.

“Why did she run into the fire, daddy?” he asks. “Was she trying to help Dr. Jenner?” 

Daryl chews on a nail, considering his answer.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “She was tryna help Dr. Jenner.”

When Jesse nods in understanding, Daryl feels absolved of any guilt. It was, after all, Josie who he swore no bullshit to, not Jesse. The differences between his children can be stark, and one of those differences is how they handle hard truths. If there is any minute glimmer of positivity to be found in his daughter’s kidnapping, it’s that he isn’t faced with the task of having to explain suicide to a six year old.

“We should search the cars,” he says abruptly, standing up and speaking to Rick. “See if there’s anything worth taking, but ‘specially water.”

“I agree,” Rick says. “And check for first aid kits, and anything that might help treat burns.”

“Carol always carries aloe vera in her purse,” Daryl says, remembering how she once made him homemade soup and gave him aloe to put on the welts on his back his dad had left behind in a fit of methed out rage. 

“Alright. Let’s get to it, then,” Rick says, clapping his hands, and Daryl snaps into action.

During the next half hour, Hershel and Carol clear a space on the back of the truck to lay Beth down and begin applying cold compresses and aloe vera to her face, while Glenn does the same to Maggie, who is burnt up and down her forearms, severely in some places, but otherwise okay. Meanwhile, Daryl, Rick, and Michonne start rummaging through cars, searching for supplies. Jesse bounces between groups, trying to be useful, and eventually ends up sitting with Maggie and telling her stupid knock-knock jokes to try and cheer her up. Beth, who keeps going in and out of consciousness, isn’t in a place to appreciate them, otherwise Jesse would surely be filling her ears with gems such as, _ “Knock-knock. Who’s there? Jesse. Jesse who? Jesse Dixon, don’t you know me?” _

“What do you think?” Rick asks quietly, coming up beside Daryl where he’s sifting through the trunk of a red Ford Focus. “You think Beth will be okay? Those burns are pretty nasty.”

“Not the burns I’m worried about,” Daryl replies, glancing over to where Carol is kneeling over the young girl and saying something he can’t make out from here. 

“What do you mean?” Rick asks.

“Maggie told me she thinks Beth inhaled a lotta smoke,” Daryl explains. He considers the polka dot umbrella tossed haphazardly in the trunk and decides against taking it. “Said she covered her own mouth, but that Beth got some big lung-fulls. Her breathing’s all labored, and if she didn’t fuck up her whole goddamn respitory system, we still got carbon monoxide poisoning to worry about.”

“How do we treat that?”

“Out here with no hospital? We don’t. Merle once got caught in a campfire that got outta hand, and the doc gave him some oxygen treatments to help, but unless you got an oxygen tank on you we’re shit out of luck. Just gotta keep her in fresh air much as possible and hope she didn’t inhale too much CO to bounce back from.” 

“I can’t believe Jenner did that to us,” Rick says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and ducking his head. “I’m sorry, brother.”

“For what? You didn’t blow it up.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one that made us go inside. I put us all at risk. I put your son at risk. I’m sorry.” 

“Ain’t your fault, man,” Daryl says, clapping Rick on the back. “It was good we went. Gave us some answers. Or, at least gave us the answer to whether or not there is any answers, which is no.” Daryl turns around, facing away from the trunk, and slumps against the car, rubbing his face. “I gotta find my daughter, dude, but I don’t have the first clue on where to start,” he admits, suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea to check around the routes that lead to the CDC. That might still be where they’re headed, and it’s the most concrete thing we have.”

“Yeah, but that’s miles and miles of backtracking that might get us nowhere.”

“Maybe, but without something else to track that just leaves, what? The entirety of Georgia? We’ll find her, but we gotta be willing to take baby steps.”

“Right,” Daryl says, not remotely pleased at the thought. Rick leans up against the car as well.

“I was thinking it might be a good idea for us to find a base before anything else.”

“A base?” Daryl asks, furrowing his brow at Rick.

“Yeah. Somewhere we can hole up in between searches. Somewhere we can treat Beth, and where Maggie can rest. Somewhere with walls, preferably, and not just out in the open in a field or the forest.”

“Sounds like just a whole lotta time spent not lookin’ for my girl, Rick,” Daryl says. “Every second we waste could be the second where they put my baby in real danger, and if she gets hurt because I was too late, I would never...I dunno, man. I just can’t handle the idea of her out there without us. Tough or not, she’s only six years old. She needs me. She needs her momma.”

“I know that,” Rick says. “And I want her found just as much as you do, but what if we don’t find her today? What are going to do come nightfall? We don’t have the CDC to go back to, and you saw how many walkers were walking around in the dark. If we have a base then we can take the time to sit down and look at a map properly and track our progress. Mark off places we’ve already been and get strategic about it.”

“Fuck,” Daryl mutters, pressing his palms against his eyes. 

“It doesn’t have to be far off track. We’ll just go a bit further out of city limits and see if we can find someone’s farmhouse, or a cabin hidden in the trees to keep us from being an easy target.” 

Daryl drops his hands to his lap and grits his teeth.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees reluctantly. He pushes himself up and goes back to looting. His eyes stray over to where Maggie is smiling softly at his son, who’s talking animatedly with his hands, and Daryl reminds himself that Josie isn’t the only one who needs his protection.

*

Once they get Beth’s burns as treated as they’re going to be and get her situated in her father’s truck with the windows rolled down, Daryl lets Rick take lead over the caravan, and they head to the outer edges of Fulton county that Rick has worked beats in before with the police department, and knows there are fewer neighborhoods, and more houses interspersed with land between them the further from the city they get. 

Rick guides them down a winding road where the trees get denser with every mile. They go down a steep hill that slopes down into a cleared area with a couple cabins that are sat a good distance apart from one another. Rick stops before getting too close, and the others follow suit and await instructions. Rick hops out and approaches Daryl.

“What’s the deal?” Daryl asks. 

“I’ve been called out here a couple times,” Rick explains. “Nothing serious. Usually kids coming through and stealing booze and loose change. Easy to do, because by the time police get out here they’re long gone. Real isolated, which makes it prime real estate right now.”

“‘Kay, I can get on board with that. But these are people’s houses. What do we do if they’re still here?” Daryl asks. Between Cylde, Aga, and Jenner, their track record with strangers isn’t going great and he’d prefer to not deal with any more if he can help it.

“I know the people in that house—” Rick points at the cabin closest to them. “—have family in Atlanta proper, so my guess is their first instinct would have been to try and get into the city. And their neighbors in the house over there were a middle aged couple who they were friends with. I wouldn’t be surprised if they followed them to try and take refuge when the broadcasts went out.”

“Alright,” Daryl says slowly. “And if you’re wrong?”

“Then we find somewhere else,” Rick says, shrugging. “I’m not saying we fight anyone for a place to stay. Or try and cohabitate with people we don’t know. I won’t put us in needless danger.”

“Fine,” Daryl says, skeptical but anxious to get this taken care of so he can get back out on the road to search for Josie. “Take us down there, then.” 

Rick nods and heads back to his car. They drive up to the closest house and park in a group near the front. Daryl leans his bike on its kickstand and slips his crossbow off his shoulder.

“Stay in here with Jesse while me and Rick check out the house,” Daryl says to Carol, poking his head in the car. Carol doesn’t seem thrilled at the idea, but doesn’t protest. 

“I’m coming, too,” Michonne says, opening her door. “I’ve got a quieter weapon than you,” she says to Rick before he can argue, and he and Daryl have to concede the point. They give Glenn and Hershel a head’s up, briefly checking in on Maggie and Beth. Maggie’s calmer now with the aloe on her arms, but Beth’s breathing is still ragged. 

Daryl, Rick, and Michonne go up the front steps, each of them with a weapon within easy reach, and stare at the doorbell for a moment, in silent debate. Finally, Daryl reaches out and presses it. Through the walls, they can make out the muted sound of one of those bells that plays a tune instead of just buzzing, and Daryl grimaces. The owners of this house are the type of people who take the time to install a doorbell that sings a pretty song, and if they did as Rick said and fled to the city, there’s a good chance they’re dead. 

When no one stirs inside after a full minute, Rick reaches out and tries the doorknob, only to find it’s locked. 

“Either of you know how to pick a lock?” Rick mutters.

“Yeah,” Daryl says. “Merle,” he explains at Rick’s raised eyebrow. “Might not need to, though, hold on.” Daryl bends down and checks under the welcome mat, finding nothing but dried leaves and dirt. He then reaches up and pats around the small paneling above the door and smiles when his hands hit something small and cool to the touch. He plucks up the key and holds it out to Rick on a splayed palm.

“Smart,” Rick muses, taking the key and sliding it into the lock. When he turns it the lock comes undone with a click, and Daryl has a flash of self-satisfaction. Rick pushes the door open slowly, Daryl and Michonne behind him with crossbow armed and katana drawn respectively. 

The cabin is small and rustic, with a living room, a modest kitchen, a couple closed doors, and then a balcony loft above them that at first glance seems to have been used as a sleeping area. Michonne motions her head towards the loft to indicate she’s going to go check it out. Rick nods and starts poking around behind furniture and kitchen counters. Daryl heads over to one of the closed doors and opens it a crack and peeks inside.

He pushes the door open all the way, revealing the old-fashioned bathroom, fit with a standing sink, and a toilet with rust stains. He’s about to turn back when he notices a couple pairs of muddy footprints on the linoleum, leading up to the clawfoot tub and shower. Raising his crossbow to his chin, he reaches out with one arm and takes a handful of shower curtain. Like ripping off a bandaid, he tugs it open, and finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

_ “Daryl?” _

Daryl tears his eyes away from the gun to look at the person holding it. She’s a woman on the later side of thirty, in a zip-up hoodie and beige capris that would be very soccer-mom-esque of her if not for the dirt and blood smeared all over the outfit. She stares at him with wide eyes. Daryl glances down into the tub and sees a young boy, only a few years older than his own children, clinging to the woman’s leg and trembling. Daryl knits his brows together in a bemused expression, lowering his crossbow to his side.

“Rachel?” he says.

*

_ Daryl enters his therapist’s building and nods a greeting at the front desk woman, Jamie, who merely glares at him in response, a good five years worth of paperwork Daryl hasn’t done lingering in the air between them. Daryl doesn’t bother to check in with her, knowing she’ll let Dr. Peterson know he’s there, and also knowing it’s better for both of them if he doesn’t try and initiate any sort of conversation. _

_ Instead, Daryl shows himself to the waiting room, where Rachel is already seated, thumbing through one of the magazines that have been there since they both started coming here. Daryl’s pretty sure they’re just for aesthetics at this point. _

_ “Anythin’ interestin’ in there?” Daryl asks, taking a seat beside her. She looks at him and smiles, tossing the large-print _ Reader’s Digest _ back onto the table in the middle of the room. _

_ “There’s a recipe for cornflake-crusted chicken I’ve read about a million times,” she says. “Maybe one day I’ll make it.” _

_ “If the day ever comes we’ll be sure to come over and celebrate with you,” Daryl says, and Rachel laughs. _

_ There have been times in the past several years where they didn’t always see each other here. There was that stretch of time when Carol was in community college and between working doubles and taking care of the kids so she could get through it, Daryl could only make it to therapy a handful of times. There was that summer when Rachel volunteered as a councilor at Ryan’s day camp and he only saw her whenever Carol decided they should try and be normal and socialize outside of their usual four friends so that “the twins don’t grow up thinking it’s illegal to be extroverts,” to which Daryl pointed out Josie would probably be a fisherwoman living alone in an igloo somewhere in rural Alaska before becoming an extrovert, and that Jesse regularly makes friends in the grocery store line, so her worries were unfounded, but he always went along with the little dinner parties anyhow, because he knew they made her happy. _

_ Rachel and her husband and son had become family friends, but Daryl still privately considered her to be, first and foremost, his therapy bro. Even when weeks, or even months passed without them crossing paths in this waiting room, it still felt like their own personal playdate whenever their schedules led them here at the same time. _

_ “How are the twins doing since getting back to school after winter break?” Rachel asks. Daryl groans and rolls his eyes. _

_ “Gotten a call from their teacher twice already. One for each of ‘em. JJ got in trouble for playing with these lil’ animal shapes he cut out of construction paper when he was s’posed to be practicing letters, and Jojo got in trouble for calling her reading partner a dumbass ‘cause he kept arguing with her on how to pronounce stuff, and when we told her she couldn’t call people dumbasses she said, ‘But you told me to always tell the truth,’ which...you know, fair. But we said she couldn’t say the word ass, and she asked why it mattered, and we said some words are bad, and she said, ‘Well that’s fucking dumb,’ and we gave up.” _

_ “At least she didn’t say ass,” Rachel says, and Daryl snorts. _

_ “Least there’s that.” _

_ “If it makes you feel better, Ryan once hit his elbow on the back of a pew in church and yelled ‘fuck’ really loud in the middle of a silent prayer.” _

_ “Fuckin’ kids, man,” Daryl says. _

_ “Yeah, the little shits,” Rachel agrees with a smirk. “Can’t imagine where they get it from.” _

_ “Beats me.” _

_ “Daryl?” Dr. Peterson says, peering around the corner and giving him a wave. _

_ “See you later,” Daryl tells Rachel, nudging her with his elbow. _

_ “Later. You and the family should come over for dinner sometime soon. Even if it’s not cornflake-crusted chicken.” _

_ “For sure. Just text the wife the details and we’ll set somethin’ up.” He tells Rachel goodbye and follows Dr. Peterson down the hall to her office. _

_ Her office hasn’t changed much over the years. A few plants have been cycled out, and a few new books have been added to the shelves, but for the most part it’s the same cozy, lamp-lit room Daryl spent his first session in, way back before he even knew for certain if he and Carol were going to keep the twins. Taking a seat in the black armchair, Daryl kicks a leg up under himself and waits for Dr. Peterson to get situated across from him. _

_ “How’ve you been this week?” she asks, adjusting her wireframe glasses and folding her hands in her lap. Daryl relays the preschool woes he’d told Rachel a few minutes prior, and Dr. Peterson smiles sympathetically. “School presents all kinds of new parenting challenges,” she says. _

_ “Tell me about it,” Daryl says. “I ain’t sure if I like how them teachers deal with it when the kids act up, though.” _

_ “How do you mean?” _

_ “I dunno, just...they wanna try and put labels on ‘em. Their teacher told us we might wanna get JJ tested for ADHD, and no one can handle the way Jojo deals with shit. Everything she does is a ‘behavior’ or whatever. ‘Specially when she gets overwhelmed and refuses to talk. They just wanna nag her about it constantly, but that just makes it take longer for her to speak again.” _

_ “I imagine teachers see a lot of the same symptoms present themselves in children over the years, and the impulse is to make assumptions based on past experiences. I know I’m not immune to that myself. But don’t tune them out completely because you don’t like what they say. I imagine their hearts are in the right place. If they’re worth their salt as teachers they just want your kids to succeed.” _

_ “I know, and I ain’t even against the possibility that the twins need some special attention. Me and Carol obviously know we gotta make sure their mental health is taken care of. I just don’t want no one judging my kids. Like, yeah, JJ can’t pay attention for shit, and maybe we’ll need to fix that somehow, but he ain’t a bad kid. He’s actually pro’ly one of the sweetest kids on the planet, and he’s real smart. His brains get overlooked ‘cause Jojo’s got the more typical types of smarts, and ‘cause he doesn’t always do his work the way they want him to, but it’s not ‘cause he doesn’t understand or is stupid. _

_ “And Jojo...hell, I don’t even know about Jojo. People say she’s real logical and kinda cold, and yeah, she’s definitely not a touchy-feely type, but she’s not emotionless. In fact, I think she gets the way she does sometimes ‘cause she feels things so big that it’s too much to handle. She needs that quiet time to sort it all out in her head. People don’t like it if you don’t talk, though. I know that one firsthand.” _

_ “People like things to fit inside boxes,” Dr. Peterson says. “And that includes other people. And when things don’t, it’s uncomfortable. I would never advocate for you to change who your kids are fundamentally. But giving them tools they can use to help navigate a world that works inside boxes might make things easier for them down the road.” _

_ “Yeah,” Daryl says, sighing. “Might be easier to get them some one-on-one help once we move to Atlanta in the summer. More resources, you know?” _

_ Dr. Peterson raises an eyebrow at him. _

_ “You’re moving to Atlanta in the summer?” she asks. “That’s new information. I knew you guys were thinking about going, but when did that get solidified?” _

_ “Oh yeah,” Daryl says. “I forgot. Carol’s business loan got approved. She’s gonna be able to lease that property we had an eye on for the bakery. We’re looking at houses to rent in the area once school’s out.” _

_ “As always, you like to bury the lede,” Dr. Peterson says with a smile. “Well, congratulations. That’s a big step for you. How’s it making you f—um, I mean...Eh, I don’t know how to turn that one into something not about feelings, sorry.” Daryl laughs. _

_ “I’m feelin’ good about it,” he says. “It’ll be weird not doin’ therapy with you, though.” _

_ “It’s been a long time,” Dr. Peterson agrees. “But hopefully you’ve gotten at least something out of it that you can take with you.” _

_ Dr. Peterson smiles, but looks a little sad. Daryl understands the bittersweet feeling. _

_ “‘Course I have,” he says. “Learned that if you dodge paperwork long enough eventually they’ll stop askin’ you to do it.” _

_ Dr. Peterson bursts out laughing. _

_ “We only provide the most important life lessons in this building,” she says. “Very glad to be of service.” _

*

“You alright, who are you talking to?” Rick’s voice sounds from behind Daryl. His friend enters the bathroom and immediately raises his gun at Rachel, who still has her own pistol raised, but Daryl waves a hand at Rick.

“No no, don’t, it’s okay. I know them. You do, too. That’s Rachel and that’s Ryan. Me and Carol’s friends. They was at our wedding reception, remember? Think y’all have crossed paths a couple other times, too. Had to have.” 

Rick and Rachel look each other over, until mutual recognition washes over them. They both lower their weapons.

“Michonne,” Daryl calls over his shoulder. “Go get Carol. The others too.” He holds a hand out to Rachel, who takes it after a beat and lets him help her out of the tub. Daryl then turns to Ryan and huffs a laugh. “When’d you get so tall, kid?” he asks. Ryan, freckled and strawberry blonde, holds his arms and smiles shyly.

“Hi, Daryl,” he mutters. 

“You alright?” Daryl asks, bending down to meet Ryan at his level. “You hurt or anythin’?”

“No, I’m okay,” Ryan says. “Just…” He shakes his head dismissively and climbs out of the bathtub himself.

“We’ve had a hard few days,” Rachel says heavily. “Very hard. But Daryl, I’m so glad you’re here. I need to tell you—”

“Rachel? Rachel, oh my god.” Carol enters the house and walks immediately over to Rachel and embraces her. Henry races in and sniffs Rachel’s capris, and then sees Ryan and bounds over to him and starts licking his cheeks. Ryan puts his hands up and giggles.

“He remembers you,” Jesse tells him, smiling kindly. 

“Hi, Henry,” Ryan says, patting Henry on the head. “And hi Jesse.” 

“Are you guys alright?” Carol asks, pulling away but still holding onto Rachel’s shoulders at an arm’s length. “How’d you get here?”

“We’re okay. Or, well, we’re not hurt, at least, but forget that for a minute,” Rachel says, sounding suddenly urgent. “Carol, I saw Josie.” 

Daryl freezes and Carol’s eyes go wide.

“What?” Daryl asks, just as Carol says, “When? Where? Was she okay?” 

“You saw Joey?” Jesse says excitedly. 

“Yeah,” Rachel says, looking between Carol and Daryl. “We were hiding out in this rundown barn when we saw this couple with a kid fighting off a biter. They took it down and came running towards the barn, and it wasn’t until they were closer did we realize it was Josie they had with them.”

“What happened? Did you talk to her?” Carol asks, her fingers turning white from gripping Rachel so hard.

“Well, obviously something wasn’t right,” Rachel says. “Stephen told us not to say anything right away, until we figured out why Josie was with them. He let them into the barn and I knew Josie recognized us right away, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t speak the entire time, but she didn’t look hurt. The couple, they said she was theirs, and they were trying to get to the CDC to get help but the roads were blocked. They didn’t know that we knew they were lying.

“They had dinner with us, and they were saying that the three of them had been fleeing since the broadcast. I didn’t want to straight accuse them, because they seemed really weird. Like, _ unhinged _weird, and so I said...fuck, what did I say? I told them I was a school teacher, and that Josie looked like a student I used to have, and what did they say her name was? And they just deflected it. They wouldn’t tell us her name. Then I said to Ryan, ‘Why don’t you show her some of the toys you brought with you and you guys can go play while the grown ups talk,’ and the woman immediately grabbed Josie and held her to her and said that she didn’t like being away from her mother.”

“Those fuckers,” Daryl mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, it was about then that Stephen and I decided to stop pretending, and he looked right at Josie and asked her where her real mom and dad were, and the couple immediately were on their feet and started to run. I’m guessing they were already starting to notice we were suspicious. Stephen took off after them, but then they all started back towards the barn and I wasn’t sure why until I saw a huge herd of biters coming up behind them.” She swallows hard. “I tried, you guys. I wrested the woman for her, but the man pulled me off of her and threw me on the ground, and...It was just a really big herd.”

“What happened to my daughter, Rachel?” Carol asks levelly, as Daryl balls his hands into fists so hard his blunt nails dig grooves into his palms. Rachel shakes her head.

“I don’t know. The herd was almost on us, and we were going to have to bolt. They knew we were gonna chase after them, so they…” Rachel blows out a breath, her eyes welling up. “They shot Stephen in the leg,” she says, voice cracking. “And he went down, and the biters…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Carol mutters, letting go of Rachel at last. Daryl glances at Ryan who has his chin tucked to his chest and is quietly weeping. Rachel wipes her eyes and clears her throat.

“Ryan and I had to get out of there. We were swarmed. I just found the first car I could and drove. I’m so sorry. I should have tried to go after them, but I was panicking, and I needed to get Ryan somewhere safe by nightfall, and—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Carol says.

“Ain’t your fault,” Daryl says, putting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “You tried. And I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Yeah,” Rachel breathes, blinking back more tears. She rolls her head and shakes her arms, trying to steel herself. “Why was she with them, though?”

Daryl and Carol recount all of the events of the past few days, and Rachel is properly aghast.

“Who steals someone’s child?” she asks when they’ve finished. “I don’t care how much you’re grieving, that’s a sin that’s unforgivable. And the CDC? It’s just gone? Just like that?”

“They didn’t have any answers, anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Carol says.

“I guess. But there would have been walls,” Rachel says. “Secure ones. I’m glad you’re here. I felt so open and vulnerable in here alone with Ryan.”

“Hopefully no one comes down this way,” Rick says, returning to them. He’d been half-listening to their conversation and half-helping helping the others get situated. “I got Beth set up on the bed in the loft,” he tells Daryl. “We didn’t think it would be smart to open up windows on the bottom floor, but there’s one up there so she can keep getting fresh air.”

“How is she?” Carol asks.

“I don’t know,” Rick says. “Hershel said that whenever she said anything in the truck it was nonsensical, and her breathing is still messed up. It’s like she’s got gravel in her lungs.

“We’ll do what we can but that ain’t much of anythin’,” Daryl says, rubbing his temples. From beside him Jesse sneezes, and Daryl looks down at him. “Bless you. How you doin’, kid?”

“I wish Joey would have come here with Rachel,” Jesse says, scrubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. “And I wish Stephen was okay. Hey Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks, lifting his head just enough to see Jesse.

“I know you’re sad. Do you want to see my pet salamander to help you feel better?” 

Ryan worries his lower lip between his teeth before nodding slowly. Jesse gestures for him to follow and the two of them head over to wherever Jesse sat Captain Beef Stew’s cage.

“Are we holin’ up here, then?” Daryl asks Rick, who shrugs.

“Good a place as any, I suppose.”

“Okay,” Daryl says. “Then why don’t y’all do what you need to do to take care of Beth and Maggie, and me and Carol will talk to Rachel about Jojo. Maybe figure out where they was on the map and that can give us a lead.”

Rick nods in agreement and goes off to assist the others. 

“Imma grab the map,” Daryl says, about to go find the atlas with the maps in the back, but Rachel puts a hand on his elbow to stop him.

“Wait, Daryl. I need to tell you something,” she says. Daryl frowns at her.

“Tell me what?” he asks, nervous as she rubs the nape of her neck.

“Nancy Peterson. Your therapist? She’s dead.”

Daryl blinks at her.

“How do you know?” he asks after a beat.

“When the broadcast first went out, a lot of us took refuge in the gymnasium at the elementary school. She was in there with her family. She recognized me and tried to keep me calm. We’re not sure how, but biters got inside during the night, and it was a massacre. I saw her go down. I’m sorry.”

Given everything he’s lost up to this point, it feels strange for this particular death to sting the way it does. It’s like a child realizing their teacher has a life outside of the classroom. It never occured to Daryl to think of Dr. Peterson as someone with her own life, because that professional distance was necessary. But she did have her own life. One that she lost.

“You okay, babe?” Carol asks him quietly, combing her fingers through his hair. He huffs air through his nostrils.

“I’m gonna get the map,” he says.

*

_ "Yo, kiddo," Daryl says, poking his head into the twins' bedroom where Jesse is lying on his belly on the floor drawing. "It's almost bedtime. Get those PJs on, alright?" _

_ "Can I finish my picture first?" Jesse asks, frowning up at Daryl. Daryl, ever the pushover when it comes to his kids, sighs. _

_ "You got ten minutes, dude, so draw fast. Momma and me will come an’ tuck you and sissy in here in a few. Speaking of," he says, glancing around the room. "Where'd Jojo go off to?" _

_ "She's with Henry in the backyard," Jesse says, his attention already back on the paper before him. Daryl rolls his eyes. _

_ "'Course she is," he mutters. Snapping his fingers at Jesse, he reiterates, "Ten minutes." Jesse hums non-committedly. Daryl chooses to ignore that, and instead heads through the kitchen to the door leading out back. _

_ Daryl steps outside to find Josie sitting on the modest patio next to a couple of Carol's planters with herbs growing in them. She's highlighted by the patio light, her arms wrapped around her knees, and she's looking up at the sky, Henry beside her chewing on a toy. _

_ "I seem to recall someone bein' told ‘bout six thousand times now that they ain't s'posed to go outside in the dark all by themselves," Daryl says, crossing his arms. Josie turns to look at him and he raises an eyebrow at her. _

_ "Sorry," she says, and Daryl doesn't think she could sound less remorseful if she tried. _

_ "Don't tell people sorry if you don't mean it, people will think you’re an ass" he says, going over to sit beside her. Her eyes are already trained back at the sky and Daryl follows her gaze. "What are we lookin' at tonight?" _

_ "Jesse and me's constellation is up in the sky," Josie says, pointing up. "See? Virgo. Like you showed me." _

_ Sure enough, Daryl can make out the long invisible lines between stars that make up his children's zodiac sign, and he remembers how years and years ago he sat beside Carol—not even fully aware he was harboring a huge, secret crush—and taught her how to find Aquarius. _

_ "Good find, kid," Daryl says, nudging Josie's shoulder with his own. "You're gettin' good at that." _

_ "Did you know that Pluto used to be a planet but now it's not?" Josie asks. _

_ "Mhm. It was a planet when I was a kid, but then they decided it wasn't anymore for some reason." _

_ "The book I read at the library said Pluto was too small so now it's something else and so that means Neptune is the last planet." _

_ "Can you name all the planets?" Daryl asks, and then laughs at the look of utter indignance on his daughter's face, as if to say, 'Of _ course _ I can.' _

_ "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune," she recites easily. _

_ "Which one's biggest?" _

_ "Jupiter," she says without a moment's hesitation. _

_ "And the smallest?" _

_ "Mercury." _

_ "And which one has bright purple sand coverin' the whole thing?" _

_ Josie opens her mouth and then falters, furrowing her brow at Daryl. _

_ "Bright purple sand?" she asks, and Daryl grins. _

_ "Just teasin'," he says, and Josie rolls her eyes. _

_ "Dumb," she mutters. "Mars has red sand though." _

_ "Does it now?" _

_ "Mhm." _

_ "Be cooler if it was purple." _

_ "Oh my God," Josie huffs, and Daryl laughs all over again. _

_ "Alright, baby, you snuck in your star-gazin'. It's time for bed." _

_ "Can I stay for just a little longer? It's no fair that I can't look at the stars too much because they come out at nighttime and you and momma always make me go to sleep then." _

_ "Well, once fall comes and it gets darker earlier you'll have more time to look. For now, though, it's time for lil’ girls and lil’ boys to get some sleep. Tell you what, though? You wanna go to the big library tomorrow? The one that's close to Uncle Rick's house? I bet there are some cool books there about outer space that you haven't read yet." _

_ Josie shrugs like she doesn't care either way, but Daryl sees the glint in her eye that gives away her excitement. _

_ "Ten more minutes," she says instead. Daryl, still the pushover, sighs. _

_ "Okay, but you gotta sit on my lap and show me all the stars you know." _

_ Without a moment's hesitation, Josie clambers onto her father's lap and lets him hold her close. He listens intently while she rattles off facts he already knows, and even a couple he doesn't. _

_ It takes more than ten minutes, but then, who's really counting anyhow? _

*

They cover very little ground in the remaining hours of the day. Rick tries to keep Daryl positive by pointing out more than once that they have a route to follow now, at least, but it doesn’t do much to satiate him. The whole house’s energy is drab and depressing, between worrying about Josie, taking care of Beth and Maggie, and mourning the ones they’ve lost. Dinner—which consists of more dry cereal, granola bars, and rationed water—feels more like a wake.

By nightfall they decide that it’s smart to keep watch, Rachel’s feelings about being open and vulnerable resonating throughout the group. Daryl waits until Jesse and Carol are asleep to take his watch. He relieves Michonne, telling her to get some rest, before sitting down on the bottom step with his crossbow lying at his feet. He looks up.

It’s cloudless tonight, and without the pollution of the city lights, the stars in the sky are bright and abundant. There are several constellations on display, but he doesn’t bother to connect any of the dots. He just appreciates each star individually for what it is—pure energy unfathomably far away, where life, death, and monsters have no meaning at all.

“_ Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her, _ ” Daryl mutters more than sings. He closes his eyes, shutting out the twinkling of the stars from his view. A few tears escape under his eyelids and slide down his cheeks. “ _ Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? _”

He swallows thickly and blinks his eyes open, this time tracing the lines of Virgo above him. He wonders if, wherever she is, Josie is looking at her constellation too.

“Stay strong, baby,” Daryl whispers aloud into the empty air. “I’ll find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me posting on time for the first time in about six thousand years! -fist bumps self-
> 
> today's in memoriam:  
-stephen, whose name i had to go look up in "check engine light"  
-dr. peterson, named and based off of my old therapist pete who was the best (and probably still is, i don't think he's gotten by any zombies lately)
> 
> see you next week homies. it's premiere week! and from what i hear it's gonna be rull fun for carylers.
> 
> stay sexy and don't get murdered (by zombies),  
-diz


	11. Ain't Just Bites

_ (12:23p) -rick is it technically fraud to lie abt ur identity 2 get out of library fines?- _

_ (12:23p) -related, do u guys think i cud use my old fake id 2 change my identity 2 get out of library fines?- _

_ (12:25p) >I doubt anyone would arrest you for it, because it would be a very stupid crime. But I’ll let you know for sure once I graduate the academy.< _

_ (12:26p) ~why are you trying to commit library card fraud, daryl?~ _

_ (12:28p) -bc my son bless his heart is a dumbass- _

_ (12:28p) -he has lost n 4got abt so many gd books tht i think we’ve paid more $ in library fines than we did in diapers when he was a bb- _

_ (12:29p) -we’ve tried everything. only lettin him check out 1 book @ a time. only lettin him have them when we’re arnd. reading them w/ him. nthn works- _

_ (12:29p) -its like he just looks @ books n they disappear- _

_ (12:29p) -rn we have a $59 fine bc he read n lost jojos books when we took his n he also accidentally destroyed 1 bc he left it on the ground n the dog tore it up-  _

_ (12:29p) -like wtf kid- _

_ (12:30p) ~maybe you should give up on trying to teach him how to reanimate.~ _

_ (12:31p) >Yeah, but then he’ll end up having the same grasp of the english language as you do, and that would be unfortunate.< _

_ (12:32p) ~shut up.~ _

_ (12:32p) ~*read.~ _

_ (12:33p) -thinkin abt it- _

_ (12:33p) -dude barely knows his abcs n is alrdy in debt- _

_ (12:33p) -hes the most disorganized 4 yr old on the planet- _

_ (12:34p) -meanwhile jojo pitched a fit this morn bc carol was helping her pick up her toys n ig carol put them in the wrong order n jojo told her “no momma! i’ll do it all me! go away!”- _

_ (12:35p) ~your kids don’t really understand the concept of a middle ground, huh?~ _

_ (12:36p) -nope- _

_ (12:37p) >Rofl, it’s hilarious that you used to use your fake ID to illegally buy cigarettes, and now you’re trying to use it to dupe the library.< _

_ (12:38p) ~underage smoking was child’s play. now he’s really breaking bad.~ _

_ (12:39p) -listen- _

_ (12:39p) -im not paying $59 for sum fukn berenstein bears books n a book abt how everyone shits- _

_ (12:40p) ~get ready for life on the lam, daryl. rick’ll be after you soon.~ _

_ (12:41p) >Sorry our friendship had to go this way, but I’m getting my handcuffs ready.< _

_ (12:42p) ~kinky.~ _

_ (12:43p) >Shut up.< _

_ (12:44p) -w/e i’ll just let jj lead me somewhere. u’ll nvr find me again we’ll get so lost- _

_ (12:45p) ~he’s better than witness protection.~ _

_ (12:46p) >Maybe you’ll find his library books wherever he takes you.< _

_ (12:46p) ~which may end up being a totally different dimension.~ _

_ (12:47p) -wudnt b surprised- _

_ (12:47p) -bet all his lost sox r there 2- _

_ (12:48p) ~hey, let me know if you find my sense of purpose while you’re there. i misplaced it during college.~ _

_ (12:49p) -lol carol told me 2 search for all of her lost fucks. anything u lost tht u need me 2 look 4 rick?- _

_ (12:50p) >I lost a rare Pokemon card when I was seven. Can you check around for that?< _

_ (12:51p) -will do- _

_ (12:51p) -in the meantime tho- _

_ (12:51p) -wut do u guys think of ebooks?- _

*

_ “Daddy?” Josie asks, as Daryl runs a brush through her long, dark hair, pinning it back with glittery star-shaped clips. “I don’t think I need to go to preschool.” _

_ “You don’t, huh?” Daryl asks, tucking some rogue strands behind her ears and turning her around to face him. “Why do you say that?” _

_ “‘Cause I already know a lot of things. I can count really high and write lots of words and I think Henry will be lonely if I am at school so probably I should stay home.”  _

_ “Henry does just fine when you’re at your Auntie’s all day. How will school be any different?” Daryl counters, and Josie frowns, not liking her logic being questioned. Daryl grazes his thumb over some of her freckles and smiles kindly. “Is it possible that you’re a lil’ nervous about starting preschool today, baby girl?” _

_ “No,” Josie says haughtily, crossing her arms. “I just don’t need to go.” _

_ “Yeah, well, everybody’s gotta go to school, kid. It’s the law. You don’t want your Uncle Rick to hafta come and arrest your momma and me ‘cause you wouldn’t go to school, do you?”  _

_ “Uncle Rick wouldn’t arrest you, you’re his friends.”  _

_ “Mm, guess that’s true. You still gotta go to school, though. Why are you worried about it? Maybe you’ll meet some other cool kids and make some friends.” _

_ “I don’t need more friends,” Josie says, affronted. “I have Jesse and sometimes Ryan comes over to play. That’s two whole friends I already have.” From behind them, Carol laughs, and Josie and Daryl turn to see her leaning against the back wall of the living room, watching this exchange. _

_ “You are your father’s daughter, you know that?” Carol says to Josie. Josie knits her brows together and sets her jaw, choosing not to dignify that with a response. Carol walks over and kisses Josie smack dab on the forehead. Josie scrunches her nose and wipes the spot on her forehead with the back of her hand. “I know you’re not big on trying new things, sweet potato, but think about all the cool stuff you’ll learn.” _

_ “I bet your teacher has lots of books you haven’t read yet, too” Daryl adds. Josie eyes both of her parents warily.  _

_ “Are you sure I gotta? Jesse can go to preschool and tell me about it instead.” _

_ “Baby, we’ll be lucky if Jesse can calm his excitement down enough to pay attention for himself. Best not count on him to teach you the material secondhand,” Carol says. _

_ As if on cue, Jesse comes barreling out of the twins’ bedroom, his backpack strapped on, almost as big as his entire torso and jangling and banging around with whatever nonsense Jesse shoved inside it. If he had to guess, Daryl would say that it’s full of some cool rocks, at least one stuffed animal, and enough markers and crayons to get him through the apocalypse.  _

_ “Is it time to go to preschool?” Jesse asks, out of breath, nearly tripping as he comes to an ungraceful stop in the living room. He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’m ready to go.” _

_ “Hm, are you though?” Carol asks, regarding her son with an eyebrow raised. _

_ “Yep, I’ve been packing my backpack all morning so that I will have all the things I need.” _

_ “You  _ sure  _ you got everythin’?” Daryl asks, suppressing a grin. _

_ “Mhm, I even got extra pencils in case someone else needs one.” _

_ Daryl exchanges a glance with Carol, who has her hand pressed against her mouth and is trying not to laugh. It’s Josie who decides to break the news to Jesse. She huffs loudly, and says, _

_ “You’re not wearing pants, dummy.”  _

_ Jesse looks down at his legs, bare all the way down to the ankle, where he has on socks and tennis shoes.  _

_ “Oh,” he says, confused. “I forgot.” _

_ “Why don’t you go finish getting dressed, and then we can go to preschool, okay?” Carol says through stifled giggles.  _

_ “Good idea,” Jesse says, nodding sagely and running back the way he came. _

_ “See, kid?” Daryl mutters to Josie. “You really wanna leave your brother up to his own devices all alone at school? He woulda gone to his first day in nothin’ but his drawls if not for you.” _

_ Josie sighs heavily. _

_ “Fine,” she says. “But only for Jesse.” _

_ “Atta girl,” Daryl says, nudging her in the side.  _

_ From the other room there’s a faint crash and thunk sound, followed by an, “I’m okay!” Daryl and Carol both look to Josie, who uncrosses her arms and rolls her eyes. _

_ “I’ll get him,” she says, and heads off to check on her brother, muttering, “So dumb,” the whole way there. _

*

_ (3:27p) *Hi darling, four things:* _

_ (3:27p) *1: I'm selling your son to the highest bidder.* _

_ (3:27p) *2: You and I can never have sex again bc I cannot risk even the slightest possibility that I might get pregnant. No more children ever. We probably shouldn't even hug. Mb not even shake hands.* _

_ (3:27p) *3: We, or at least I, am staying at auntie's tonight.* _

_ (3:28p) *And 4: I need you to call an exterminator like right now immediately.* _

_ (3:31p) -k back up- _

_ (3:31p) -need more info- _

_ (3:31p) -y cant we have sex?- _

_ (3:31p) -n also tht other stuff?- _

_ (3:32p) *I was in the living room braiding Josie's hair when your son came out of his room and said "hey momma can you help me look for something?"* _

_ (3:33p) *I said "well ofc my dear sweet love, what do you need help finding?"* _

_ (3:33p) *And your son said "well I forgot to put the lid on my spider friend cage."* _

_ (3:34p) -o god- _

_ (3:35p) *And so I was like "mmmk, please explain to me what a spider friend cage is and please tell me it's not literal."* _

_ (3:36p) -was it literal?- _

_ (3:37p) *IT WAS LITERAL.* _

_ (3:37p) *He told me he'd been collecting "spider friends" to put in a spider town he’s building (???) and has been keeping them in a giant jar under his bed with some holes poked in the top.* _

_ (3:37p) *But he "forgot to put the lid on and now they are all hiding".* _

_ (3:38p) -o no- _

_ (3:38p) -how many?- _

_ (3:39p) *"Hm, I don't remember exactly, I think mb as many as all of my fingers and toes?* _

_ (3:40p) - :/ - _

_ (3:41p) *So anyway I am putting Jesse on ebay and also we have to move.* _

_ (3:42p) -ya thts fair- _

_ (3:43p) *Oh and Josie's been super helpful. Jesse called spiders insects and she very sternly informed him that they are arachnids and has been arguing with him about the difference for about twenty minutes now.* _

_ (3:43p) *“Insects only have six legs, dummy!”* _

_ (3:43p) *Yes, definitely the biggest issue at hand.* _

_ (3:43p) *Thnx baby girl.* _

_ (3:44p) -axels cousin does extermination i'll c if he can do us an emergency solid- _

_ (3:44p) -i'll let u kno asap- _

_ (3:44p) -n mb check 2 c if jj has any more friends living in any more jars in the house- _

_ (3:45p) *I WENT TO PUT ON A BRA SO WE COULD GO TO AUNTIE'S AND THERE WAS ONE IN THE LEFT CUP DARYL* _

_ (3:45p) *I ALMOST HAD SPIDER TITTY* _

_ (3:45p) *FIX THIS* _

_ (3:46p) - ://// - _

_ (3:46p) -on it- _

_ (3:47p) *See if Axel’s cousin does vasectomies too while you’re at it.* _

_ (3:48p) - :/ - _

_ (3:48p) -spiders first- _

_ (3:48p) -we’ll talk dick surgery l8r- _

_ (3:48p) -hold tight- _

*

Daryl crouches in the grass, examining a print in the dirt. Possum, he deduces, one that walked by several hours ago, judging by the looks of it. No human footprints in this part of the woods, say for his own. Back at the barn Rachel last saw Josie, Daryl managed to pick up a trail that he’d been able to track for a good half mile before it got lost in the erratic marks of a herd of walkers that dragged their feet. Now both the herd and his daughter have disappeared, and Daryl is back at square one, trying to put together a puzzle he’s missing pieces to.

Up ahead, something rustles in the bushes. Raising his crossbow, he waits for a walker to emerge. Instead, a large rabbit hops out into view, unaware of Daryl’s presence, stealth being one of his top skills. 

After a second of debate, Daryl lets an arrow fly, piercing the rabbit right in the eye. He goes over and collects his kill, slipping it into his knapsack. If nothing else, his son will eat something substantial tonight. They could probably even manage a stew, with the couple of canned chili beans they have, and the wild onions he’d seen growing out back of the cabin.

But Daryl doesn’t think he’s ever been less hungry. Even though he let Jesse and Ryan split his granola bar that morning. The emptiness inside him isn’t from hunger, but from too much loss too quickly.

Glancing up, Daryl checks the position of the sun and posits that he’s got only an hour or two of daylight left. He’ll have to meet up with the others soon. Everyone has been delegated different tasks to keep them busy. 

Carol and Rachel are meant to be reinforcing their homebase by boarding up windows and checking out the perimeter to assure they’re alone for the time being. 

Glenn insisted on going into the closest small town by himself to scavenge, much to everybody’s chagrin, but ultimately Daryl had sided with him and helped bring the others around to the idea, citing Glenn’s knack for sneaking in and out without being seen. 

Maggie and Hershel haven’t left Beth’s side since laying her down in bed up in the cabin’s loft. As of that morning, the young girl’s condition hadn’t improved, her chest rising and falling heavily, and her breathing labored like she’s sucking air in through a straw. She’s teetering precariously between life and death, although no one has it in them to admit it, all simply repeating, “We’ll just have to give it time,” as if time has been anything but a nuisance to them since the first warning broadcast. 

Rick and Michonne are with Daryl, doing their own search, and while Daryl doesn’t know how much he trusts their tracking skills, he still appreciates having the help, if only because this hunt is its own special brand of loneliness every second he’s by himself in the woods, free to think about how fractured his family is right now.

Shouldering his knapsack and holding his crossbow at his side, Daryl starts down the path out of the woods. He takes the long way, scanning the ground for any inkling of evidence that his daughter was here. With every step the bullet wound in his leg smarts, the echo of Josie’s cries for help reverberating in his ears.

The path leads him into a small, unexpected clearing, where the remnants of a campfire sits smack dab in the middle. Careful not to trample over any prints in the grass that may give him a new lead, Daryl goes to investigate the area with a cautious hope. He examines the area like Sherlock Holmes at a crime scene, and recreates what took place here last night.

There were more than two people here—by his count Daryl sees at least three, four, maybe five different sets of shoeprints criss-crossing over each other, leading to and from the fire pit, never straying much further than the treeline.

Bending down and picking up a stick, Daryl pokes around the soot of the extinguished fire. Most everything is ash, but he pulls up a wrapper that only burned partway. Daryl recognizes the brand even with the logo charred away. It’s from a box of single-serve cracker packs. He knows this because his children can tear through whole boxes in a single day, so he and Carol always keep them in stock at home. And, Daryl thinks with a jolt to his heart, in the back of their van. Did this cracker wrapper come from the stash Clyde and Aga stole?

He drops the wrapper and searches the ground more closely. It’s hard to pick out individual prints in the mess, but among them he spots a pair tinier than the rest. A child’s footprints. He anxiously follows them, and notices how they never stray from a second petite set of prints, most likely belonging to a woman.

The two sets of prints veer away from the campsite, still in tandem, and head behind some bushes. A tree branch that may have been blocking the way hangs on by a thread, snapped nearly in half. Pulse thrumming in his temples, Daryl swallows and peers into the private nook hidden by the brush.

No one is there, say for a beetle that scurries away at Daryl’s rustling, but the space is not void of clues. Far from it.

On the ground—lying on top of the dirt and leaves so there’s no doubt they fell there recently—are chunks of hair. Long, silky, dark strands littered all over, hacked off at the roots by someone’s unskilled hand with a knife.

A glint of something shiny catches Daryl’s eye, and he reaches down to snatch up a glittery, purple hairband. It’s the same hairband Daryl used to tie Josie’s braid just a handful of days prior.

Carefully, almost ritualistically, Daryl takes ahold of one of the thicker chunks of his daughter’s shorn hair, folds it, and wraps the band around it in three tight loops. He holds the odd memento in the palm of his hand for a long moment, before curling his fingers around it in a fist and popping up straight. His nostrils flare in anger, seething at the thought of that woman holding Josie still and running a blade through her beautiful hair.

Revitalized, like a bloodhound picking up a scent, Daryl gets right to work following his new trail.

*

“Why would they cut her hair?” Carol whispers, careful not to let Jesse hear, in case he’s eavesdropping from the other side of the door. She and Daryl are sitting out front of the cabin, the sun about fifteen minutes from dipping out of sight. Daryl is skinning the rabbit, while Carol holds the lock of Josie’s hair, staring at it while Daryl tells her about the new developments in the search.

“The kid they lost was a boy, right?” Daryl says, slicing the belly of the rabbit, careful not to nick any organs and taint the meat. “Maybe they’re tryna, I dunno, make her look more like him? That’s why they took her in the first place; to replace their son. Or hell, maybe it ain’t anythin’ as complicated as that. Maybe they just got wigged out that someone recognized her and are tryna disguise her now.”

“She’s never had a haircut,” Carol says then, brushing her thumb over the lock. Daryl pauses his work on the rabbit to look at his wife.

“I know,” he says softly.

When the twins were two, he and Carol had taken them to get their first haircut. Jesse loved it, of course, loved all the attention and the new people, but Josie cried. Not a tantrum or a whine, but an actual terrified wail when a stranger made her sit in a weird chair and draped a cape across her. She stared at her parents with big tears in her eyes and held her hands out to Daryl, and it was so unlike her to beg to be picked up that Daryl stopped the hairdresser and took Josie into his arms, where she immediately clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

They’d never taken her back. There hadn’t been a need. Carol was already a pro at dealing with hair, her own curls a constant struggle, and Daryl took it upon himself to learn how to braid—pigtails, French, fishtails, you name it—and they just left Josie’s hair long. If it didn’t bother her then it didn’t bother them.

But now someone had taken it upon themselves to hack off six years worth of hair from their daughter’s head, and Daryl knows Carol is just as irate as he is. 

It’s got nothing to do with looks—Josie could walk around rocking a flock-of-seagulls for all they care—but it has everything to do with the blatant disregard these people have for Josie’s well-being. To steal an already traumatized child from her parents is unthinkable, but now they are making it worse by proving they have no respect for Josie’s boundaries.

What will they do if she goes into one of her “behaviors” and won’t speak when they want her to? How will they react if she gets picky about how her things are arranged? They have no idea that certain fabrics irritate the hell out of her, or that she’s sensitive to certain sounds, and would they even care if they did?

“They don’t understand her,” Carol says, voicing Daryl’s fears for him. “They won’t even try to. They’re torturing her, Daryl, you know this has got to be like torture to her.”

“She’s tough,” Daryl says, going back to his rabbit and frowning.

“She shouldn’t have to be,” Carol whispers. “She’s a baby. I know she’d tell me off for saying so, but she’s just a baby.  _ Our _ baby.”

Daryl taps the blade of his knife against the wood of the patio and channels his Carol Override to keep himself composed.

“Least we know more now,” he says with faked pragmatism. “We know they found a group to join, and that they left the campsite together. Was able to follow the car tracks a good ways before they ended up on pavement, but they ain’t headed towards the CDC no more. They’re goin’ too far southeast for that. Maybe them people they holed up with knew Atlanta burned and steered ‘em away.”

“I don’t know if I feel better or worse knowing she’s with more people.”

“At least there’s more of ‘em to fight if they come across walkers. And if Jojo trusts ‘em, or can get outta Aga’s sight long enough, she can tell ‘em what’s goin’ on and maybe they’ll help her.”

“Josie wanted to put a lock on the chimney because she thought Santa Claus was up to no good. She doesn’t trust easy.”

“No,” Daryl agrees. “But she’s smart, and she’s logical. I know she’s little, but that girl can scheme like none other if she wants. ‘Member when she convinced JJ to ditch school with her ‘cause they was gonna go hike to Texas to ‘meet that guy Houston the astronauts are always talkin’ to’?” 

“They managed to get three blocks away before the teachers realized they were gone,” Carol recalls, granting him a small smile, conceding the point. They fall silent, Daryl working on the rabbit with Carol, contemplative, beside him.

“Daryl?” she says after a few minutes have passed.

“Yeah?”

“I want them dead.”

Daryl turns to look at her and sees pure steel in her eyes.

“Aga and Clyde?” he asks, and she nods slowly.

“Even if we get Josie back and she’s fine, I don’t care. After all they’ve done they don’t deserve to live.” She looks back down at the lock of hair still resting in the palm of her hand and sets her jaw. “I want them dead,” she says, voice dropping to a low whisper. “And if you don’t do it, I will.” 

*

_ (10:19p) *Mon chèri. You awake?* _

_ (10:21p) -mhm- _

_ (10:21p) -u just get home from the diner?- _

_ (10:22p) *A little bit ago, yeah. My aunt wanted to talk to me. She said she noticed I "seemed to be in better spirits" since prom night and wanted to know if anything happened to make me happier.* _

_ (10:23p) -wutd u tell her- _

_ (10:24p) *I actually told her the truth, believe it or not. I told her that I had been up in my head about you going to the dance with another girl and finally confronted you about it, and then we admitted our feelings to each other and are bf and gf.* _

_ (10:26p) -howd she take it?- _

_ (10:27p) *She was chill. Seemed happy for us. I think she gets torn about how parent-like she's supposed to be with me, since I'm legally an adult, but am also living under her roof.* _

_ (10:27p) *She's not gonna like, forbid me from staying over at your place or anything once your dad is back on the road, so w/e.* _

_ (10:28p) *It was kinda nice to have like "girl talk" with her, lmfao. She said shit like, "Oh I bet that girl he took as his date had nothing on you."* _

_ (10:29p) -tbf shes rite- _

_ (10:30p) *Lol! Be nice. Beth is sweet.* _

_ (10:31p) -hey ur the one who got all upset abt me goin w/ her even tho the real reason i went was 2 c u- _

_ (10:31p) -plus i told u like 50000 times it wasnt a date- _

_ (10:32p) *Shush. I was only like that bc I started overthinking and convinced myself that a pretty, peppy, cheerful lil blonde would win out against a grumpy sad sack with a frizz mop shoved into a scrunchie on her head any day.* _

_ (10:33p) -yes cheerful n peppy is totes my type- _

_ (10:34p) *Shuuuush your face. I never said it was logical. All I knew was she was there hugging you and smiling all beautiful in her dress and I wanted to light her on fire for something that was not remotely her fault.* _

_ (10:35p) -bb if someone held me @ gunpoint n told me 2 describe wut beth was wearing 2 prom theyd have 2 shoot me bc i only saw u the whole damn nite- _

_ (10:36p) *Barf central, you're such a sap.* _

_ (10:36p) * :') * _

_ (10:37p) -lol she is a nice girl n i rly hope she got w/ tht guy she was scoping out but i nvr 4 one sec wanted 2 b w/ her- _

_ (10:37p) -sure am glad i agreed 2 b her date tho bc prom ended up bein p damn gud- _

_ (10:39p) *Yeah, it certainly was one of my better nights.* _

_ (10:39p) *It's weird how things work out sometimes. You ever think about that?* _

_ (10:41p) -abt wut?- _

_ (10:43p) *About how random ppl or random events can play weirdly significant roles in your life. A dead car battery leading to the most important relationship in my life. Going to a football game landing you your two best friends. A girl neither of us have spent any real time with pushing us to confess our feelings for each other.* _

_ (10:43p) *Little shit like that.* _

_ (10:44p) -its always weird 2 trace stuff back- _

_ (10:45p) *My brain can't decide if nothing matters or if everything matters. I'm not good with in betweens.* _

_ (10:46p) -idk but it prob isnt smthn ur gna answer @ 11pm when u got a math test 2mrw- _

_ (10:47p) *Was that your not-so-subtle way of telling me to stop getting philosophical and to study and go to bed?* _

_ (10:48p) -not rly but u shud prob do those things- _

_ (10:49p) *Can I eat the chocolate ice cream in the freezer first? My aunt didn't even buy the neapolitan, it's straight up double chocolate fudge.* _

_ (10:50p) -ya u earned it- _

_ (10:51p) *Good, bc I was gonna eat it either way.* _

_ (10:52p) -lmfao- _

_ (10:53p) *You sound sleepy, mon chéri.* _

_ (10:54p) -a lil but i can stay up n talk 2 u- _

_ (10:55p) *Nah, you get some sleep. You know me. Who knows when I'll crash?* _

_ (10:56p) -u sure?- _

_ (10:57p) *Yes, sugar pie.* _

_ (10:58p) -lol- _

_ (10:58p) -ok i'll c u in the morn try n go 2 bed soon ok?- _

_ (10:59p) *I'll do my damnedest, but only bc you asked me nicely.* _

_ (10:59p) *Goodnight, Daryl.* _

_ (11:00p) -nite bb- _

_ (11:00p) -sweet dreams- _

*

It’s around 7p.m., after everyone has eaten their first warm meal since the CDC, that Beth’s ragged breaths turn into rattles.

No one says it aloud, but everyone except maybe the kids hear each of Beth’s inhales and exhales like Jenner’s countdown clock. She’s not regained full consciousness once since they left the blast zone—has only come-to enough to moan in pain at her burnt cheek and raw lungs—and Daryl doesn’t think that she’s ever going to again.

Daryl goes up to her balcony bed to see her. Maggie is holding one of her sister’s hands, Glenn sat behind her rubbing her back, while she whispers soft, sweet things to her. Meanwhile, Hershel is right beside the head of the bed and is stroking the part of Beth’s hair that didn’t get burnt, and Daryl, thinking about his discovery earlier that day, suddenly feels Hershel’s pain so viscerally his own breath hitches.

It may be cowardly, but he doesn’t stay to comfort any of them. Watching Hershel watch his daughter die hits too close to home right now.

Instead, he goes down to the bottom floor and then heads straight out the door, where Rick is keeping watch.

“I can take over,” Daryl says. Rick twists his mouth, looking at him over his shoulder. His eyes dart to the door.

“I’m fine, I don’t mind staying out here a while longer.”

Daryl smiles a little in understanding.

“You don’t wanna go back in there neither, huh?” he asks. Rick huffs a laugh, scooting over to let Daryl sit beside him.

“I feel useless in there,” RIck admits. “Almost voyeuristic, standing around while Hershel, Maggie, and Glenn deal with this. She’s one of our own, but it’s never gonna be the same for me as it is for them, and I dunno, I feel guilty grappling with my dumb thoughts about mortality around them.”

“We all feel that way about some of the people we’ve lost. We can’t mourn everyone at full force all at once, or we’ll go crazy. Don’t mean you don’t care. It just all hits differently.”

“Yeah,” Rick says, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I think what’s tripping me up is that it didn’t have to happen. She did it to herself, and I don’t understand why.”

“Think maybe she didn’t know that mourning it all at once makes you go crazy. She tried to carry everyone’s grief and it got too heavy, and then Jenner gave her an out with not enough time to think it through.”

“I know, which is why I feel bad for being angry at her. Like, she didn’t need to do this to her sister or her father. To the group as a whole.”

“She didn’t,” Daryl agrees. “I guess it ain’t just bites. This new world takes people out all kinds of ways.” 

Rick is about to reply when the door opens a crack and Jesse slips out, cutting him off.

“Hey kiddo, what’re you doin’ out here?” Daryl says, guiding Jesse over and setting him on his lap.

“Inside is all swampy,” Jesse says with a deep sigh, leaning back against Daryl’s chest.

“Swampy?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. Like how swamps are all mucky and sloppy and gross and there’s crocodiles? That’s how it’s like inside.”

“There are crocodiles inside?” Rick asks with an eyebrow raise, and Jesse grins a little.

“Not the crocodile point,” he says, and then sneezes into his elbow.

“Bless you,” Daryl says. “Hey, I know you don’t wanna be inside, but your momma might be worried if she doesn’t know where you got off to.” 

“She knows I’m with you, she and Rachel said it was okay. I think momma is mad at me anyways,” Jesse says, propping his chin up on his hand.

“Mad at you?” Daryl asks, frowning. “Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause she doesn’t say a lot of words to me and doesn’t look at me a lot of the time,” Jesse says. Daryl suppresses a sigh.

“She’s not mad at you, baby,” he tells Jesse. “She’s just worried about you, and misses sissy. There’s a lot of watermelons in her belly.” 

“Watermelons make her kinda mean,” Jesse mutters, and Daryl exchanges a glance with Rick.

“I’ll talk to her,” he promises his son.

For some time, the three of them sit on the patio, none of them wanting to go and face the swamp inside. Jesse requests a story, so Rick and Daryl take turns spinning one of their old D&D campaigns into a thrilling tale, until Jesse dozes in Daryl’s arms.

Daryl is considering taking Jesse in to bed when the door opens again. This time, Carol steps out, and Daryl takes one look at her and knows what she’s come to tell them.

“Is she gone?” Daryl asks quietly, mindful of Jesse. Carol swipes at a couple tears on her otherwise stoic face. She crosses her arms.

“About ten minutes ago,” she says. “Hershel seems like he’s in shock. Maggie’s a wreck, and Glenn’s trying to hold it together for her. I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s all a mess.”

“Shit,” Rick says, covering his face with his hands.

“Michonne was saying we should bury her in the morning. Do it properly and make it symbolic. Like we’re doing it for all the people we weren’t able to put to rest. Not that it’ll change anything,” Carol says, sounding both sad and bitter.

“It might help,” Daryl says, creasing his brow. He holds onto Jesse a little tighter for moral support, and then curses himself when the little boy stirs. He doesn’t want to have this conversation yet.

“Momma?” Jesse asks, blinking blearily up at Carol. Daryl sees Carol glance at Jesse and immediately avert her gaze. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s real late, kid. Why don’t you try and get back to sleep?” Daryl says gently, but Jesse doesn’t hear him.

“Is it about Beth?” Jesse asks quietly. Grimacing, Daryl is about to tell him, yes, it’s about Beth, when a loud scream followed by alarmed dog barks come from inside.

“Stay back,” Daryl says, lifting Jesse off his lap and jumping to his feet in an instant. He snatches up his crossbow, just as Rick pops up and pulls out his gun. Carol opens the door quickly, whipping out her knife, and the three adults survey the scene to see what all the commotion is about.

Rachel has a sleepy, confused Ryan in her arms, Michonne has her katana, and they’re all looking up at the balcony, where Glenn is struggling to hold Maggie back by her shoulders and is screaming at Hershel to follow him.

“She wasn’t bit! This doesn’t make sense, she wasn’t bit!” Maggie is yelling, hysterical.

That’s when Daryl sees what they’re panicking about. Beth is out of bed and is dragging her feet towards them on the balcony, her eyes glazed over, teeth snapping as she snarls—all the tell-tale signs of a walker.

But Maggie’s right—she wasn’t bit. So what the fuck?

There isn’t time to figure it out, because Glenn, busy wrestling Maggie, is unable to grab Hershel, who is standing stock still directly in Beth’s path.

“Daddy  _ move _ ,” Maggie begs, but Hershel is frozen. Beth, teeth bared, encroaches upon him, closer and closer.

Without thinking, Daryl arms his crossbow and shoots a bolt right through Beth’s head. Beth wobbles sideways and then goes toppling right off the balcony. Everyone on the ground level gasps and takes involuntary steps back as her body hits the floor with a loud thud.

“Daddy,” Jesse says tentatively into the ringing silence that follows. Daryl glances over to find his son staring through the open door with wide eyes at Beth’s twisted body. “I think I forgot to tell you something.”

“What are you talking about?” Daryl asks, out of breath despite having not moved from his spot in the threshold. 

“We’re all sick like the walkers,” Jesse says, eyes still trained on Beth’s lifeless form.

“What?” Carol asks, confused enough to forget to avert her gaze from him. She looks at Jesse, bewildered. 

“Dr. Jenner said so. He said everybody in the whole world has bad stuff in their blood.” Jesse finally blinks away from Beth and looks instead at everyone staring at him. “Sorry for forgetting,” he mutters, and then sneezes.

Daryl rubs a hand over his face and slumps against the wall.

“Bless you,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, technically this has been done since thursday, but it was all hand written and i didn't have time to type it up, so i'm counting it as being on time. it's a process.
> 
> fun fact, my partner once convinced his brother to ditch school so they could go to the rainforest in like, brazil or something. they got caught.
> 
> today's in memoriam:  
-rabbit  
-josie's hair  
-beth, whomp whomp
> 
> ok, i'm updating this while at work so i g2g.
> 
> btw, watch the new episode of twd, it's prob one of the best episodes they've ever done, it's so fucking good
> 
> k, c u,  
-diz


	12. Some Holes We Refuse to Dig

_ Arriving home from his Sunday afternoon shift at the shop, Daryl walks with his cane into the house and is greeted by wailing. It’s the same wailing he left the house hearing. Frowning, he follows the cries into the twins’ nursery, where Josie is on her playmat, contentedly playing with building blocks, while Carol is sat in the rocking chair in the corner, holding Jesse flush against her, rubbing his back and shushing him as he sobs.  _

_ “He been like that all day?” Daryl asks in lieu of a greeting. Carol looks up at him and goes slack with relief. Daryl hobbles over to the two of them and lowers himself to the floor so he can hold his arms out and let Carol pass the baby over, thankful for the reprieve. _

_ “More often than not,” Carol says, rubbing a stiff shoulder, a worried crease in her brow. “He’s even worse if I try to set him down. I had to change Josie earlier and I thought someone was gonna call CPS on me with how loud he screamed. I don’t know what’s bothering him.” _

_ Daryl tucks his chin to look at Jesse, whose cries have petered down into whimpers after seeing that Daryl is home and both his parents are here now to comfort him. Big tears cling to his long eyelashes as he pouts his lower lip up at his father. “What’s eatin’ you, kid, huh?” Daryl asks quietly. He presses his lips against Jesse’s forehead and pulls back with a frown. “He seem like he’s got a fever to you?” he asks Carol.  _

_ “I thought his face was just hot from all the crying, but maybe. Should I get the thermometer?”  _

_ "Couldn't hurt," Daryl says, bouncing Jesse gently as the baby lets his head thunk against Daryl's shoulder, as though it's too heavy to hold up a second longer. Jesse sneezes then, wet and snotty, right in Daryl's face.  _

_ "Lovely," Carol says in sympathy, handing Daryl a rag off the back of the chair. He wipes off his cheek and neck with a grimace and then uses the rag to clean Jesse's nose. _

_ "Bless you," he tells the baby. _

_ "Bababa," Jesse babbles sadly, burrowing in closer.  _

_ "I'm gonna get a thermometer," Carol says, getting to her feet and hurrying to the bathroom. From his spot on the nursery room floor Daryl can hear her rummaging around the medicine cabinet. Her footsteps trail back towards the room, and she comes back in with a baby thermometer, still in its package. _

_ They've never needed to use it before. _

_ Josie and Jesse both watch with mild interest as Carol struggles with the thick plastic packaging, swearing under breath as she pulls it apart. Finally, she frees the thermometer and briefly glances over the instructions before joining Daryl on the floor. _

_ "Lalalala," Jesse says with a big, pouty frown, trying to move away as Daryl holds him still and Carol sticks the thermometer in his ear. _

_ "I know, baby, it'll just be a second," Carol murmurs, knitting her brows together with guilt. Jesse continues to squirm, and shoots Carol a look of betrayal, holding it until the thermometer beeps and she stops tormenting him. _

_ "Verdict?" Daryl asks, kissing the top of Jesse's head to soothe him. _

_ "101.6," Carol says, blanching. "He had a fever this whole time and I didn't even realize it." _

_ "It's not your fault," Daryl says, turning Jesse in his arms to get a better look at his face. His cheeks and nose are rosy red from crying, and his eyes are glossy. Mild panic begins to bubble in Daryl's stomach. The kids have never been sick before.  _

_ "I'm so sorry, sweet potato," Carol tells the baby guiltily, cupping the back of his head and kissing his temple. To Daryl she asks, "What do we do?" _

_ "I dunno, do you think his temperature is high enough that we should call the doc?" he asks, his Dad Override just barely concealing his anxiety.  _

_ "101.6 isn't that bad for an adult, but he's so little," Carol says, her anxiety spilling out unbidden. "And what if it gets higher?" _

_ "Does he got any other symptoms?" _

_ "He's been stuffy, but I swear I thought it was just because he'd been crying." Carol looks close to tears herself, and Daryl holds Jesse with one arm in order to reach over and squeeze her hand. _

_ "You didn't have no reason to think he was sick, 'cause he ain't never been before. No one's blamin' you, I promise." _

_ "I know, I just feel like a shitty mom. I was getting so frustrated with him, when the whole time he was trying to tell me something was wrong and I wasn't listening." Carol doesn't give Daryl time to assure her that she isn't shitty, reaching into her pocket at once, pulling out her phone, and adding, "I'm gonna call the nurses’ hotline at the hospital to see what they suggest. We have infant Tylenol, but I have no idea what dose we're supposed to give to a baby his age." _

_ Daryl doesn't distract her while she looks up the number and makes the call. He rocks Jesse and glances over at Josie, who is watching her parents fuss over her brother with mild interest. _

_ "You doin' okay over there, sweetheart?" Daryl asks Josie. Josie sticks a foam block in her mouth in response. _

_ "She's been so good for me today. She must know her brother doesn't feel well," Carol says. "They have me on hold," she adds, pointing at the phone held up to her ear.  _

_ "Atta girl," Daryl says to his daughter. _

_ "Shit, we probably need to keep an eye on her now, too, huh? In case Jesse is contagious? Yes, hello? Hi, my name is Carol Miller…" _

_ Daryl shushes Jesse soothingly, rubbing his back, while Carol speaks to the nurse. _

_ Throughout the rest of the night, the two of them call the nurses’ hotline three more times, asking questions that if they heard anyone else ask they’d think they were overreacting, but since they’re the ones saying them they seem perfectly reasonable, because this is their  _ baby _ on the line here, okay?  _

_ “The package says to give him more Tylenol every four to six hours. So what is it? Four or six? Should we do the average and give him more in five hours?” _

_ “He didn’t finish his bottle, do you think he’s okay? How much was left? Like a quarter of it.”  _

_ “What color is his mucus supposed to be?”  _

_ When they call for the last time there’s a new nurse on shift, and she starts the conversation by saying, “Oh yes, you must be who my coworker was talking about.”  _

_ To their credit, they’re treated kindly. New parents dealing with their baby’s first fever—it’s not unusual to go a little crazy with worry. But by the end of the night they have Jesse’s temperature down to 99.7 degrees, and he’s conked out in his crib, snoring through his stuffy nose, their crisis successfully handled. _

_ Which makes them much more prepared the following night, when Josie’s fever spikes, and to make up for her good behavior the day before, she screams loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. She doesn’t feel well, is pissed as hell about it, and has exactly none of her brother’s patience. _

_ That’s the thing about having two—they have to do all their firsts twice. But they get real good at it! That’s the bright side. Twice the experience, twice the expertise.  _

_ They still call the nurses’ hotline, though.  _

_ Twice. _

*

The sound of metal hitting dry dirt is deafening; a rhythmic pattern as Daryl and Rick use shovels they found in a small tool shed out back to dig a hole. That’s what Daryl keeps calling it in his head.  _ A hole. _ Because if he lets himself think about what it actually is he’s not sure he’ll be able to manage finishing it, and he’s not about to let Rick carry this burden on his own. 

Neither man has said a word to the other since their shovels struck the ground. There is altogether too much to process in order to put it all into words, and Daryl thinks about Josie, and how he understands how the weight of the world can become so heavy that it steals the syllables right off your tongue.

Daryl gives his head a shake, banishing the thought. It’s impossible for him to rid his mind of Josie for even a second, but he pushes her as far back from the forefront as he can. He can’t think about his missing daughter and dig a hole at the same time. Not this type of hole. Not the type that someone else’s daughter is going to lie in. Not the type of hole that’s actually a grave.

When they’ve dug several feet down, Rick pauses and wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He squints at the halo of the sun starting to peek out between the trees as dawn arrives, and he huffs a sigh.

“This deep enough do you think?” he asks Daryl without looking at him. Daryl leans into his shovel, using it to support his weight while he regards their handiwork. Mentally he assesses the approximate size and shape of a body, and how well it would fit inside this hole. The thought makes him nauseous. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he mutters. It’s not like he’s going to find a tape measure and make sure they get it exactly six feet. It’ll get the job done, and that’s all he has the energy for. Hell, he hardly has any energy period, every inch of him heavy with exhaustion. He hasn’t slept, has barely eaten, and has spent so much time fussing over everybody else that he’d almost forgotten that a bullet went through his leg only a few days ago.

He remembers now, though. The sudden stop in movement gives his body time to communicate with his brain, and a pain pulsates in his thigh, his nerves begging him to take a goddamn break, but he doesn’t want to. If he takes a break then he’ll just end up feeling all of it, as in  _ all _ of it, and he’s got a high pain tolerance, but there are some wounds that even the toughest can’t stomach. 

“What do we do now?” asks Rick, and when Daryl looks at him he’s struck by how raw and vulnerable he is. Rick wears a costume around the others—Daryl knows, because he wears it too. When they’re around everyone else they wear the mask of the Cool, Calm, and Collected. They’ve fallen into the rolls without anyone’s say-so. Daryl has a natural talent for survival, and Rick has an aptitude for leadership, and now the two of them have become the ones the others look to for answers, and they’ve been doing their best to provide them.

But out here in the yard, covered in dirt and sweat, digging a hole to hold the body of their friend, they can’t maintain the facade. Not to each other, and right now Rick looks every bit the young twenty-something he still is. He looks like a guy who has only just recently got a handle on life—who only just recently started to feel confident that he’s on the right path—except now any sense of understanding about the world he may have had has collapsed into dust.

He appears aimless, and Daryl knows he mirrors him.

Josie isn’t the only one who’s lost.

“What we gotta,” Daryl says, and it’s not really an answer, but Rick understands it anyway. Wordlessly, the two of them stick their shovels into the dewy morning grass to make them stand upright unsupported, and they go into the house. 

The scene inside feels strangely Victorian, what with all the windows boarded up, making them rely on candlelight, and the atmosphere is thick with morosity and grief. 

The rest of the group is scattered in various places throughout the cramped cabin. In the sole bedroom, Ryan and Jesse are both in a restless sleep with Henry and Captain Beef Stew keeping watch. Daryl can hear the hushed voices of Michonne, Carol and Rachel in the kitchen, trying to drum up something for breakfast on the off-chance anyone has any sort of appetite. Up on the balcony loft Glenn and Maggie are spooning in a pile of blankets on the floor, neither of them willing to lie in the bed where Beth died.

The front room has become a vigil. There had been an awkward dispute on where exactly Beth was going to wait until the grave was finished. It didn’t feel right to anyone to lay her outside, but she couldn’t very well be out on display with a coagulated wound in the middle of her forehead. The compromise had been wrapping her up in a sheet and laying her on the couch. Carol and Rachel had tag-teamed cleaning up the blood off the floor, and Michonne pulled a chair up beside the couch for Hershel to sit in, and that’s where he is now. Daryl doesn’t think he’s moved all night; merely has maintained the same pose, bent forward with his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands steepled by his mouth, his face blank.

Hearing the front door open, the girls peek their heads out of the kitchen, and Glenn and Maggie peer over the balcony, and Rick and Daryl find themselves being under the scrutiny of their friends, all watching them expectantly. Daryl is tongue tied instantly.

“We’re ready,” Rick says, saving Daryl from the responsibility, although Daryl does wonder about his choice of words. “Ready” seems subjective. On the contrary, Daryl doesn’t know if he’s ever felt less ready than he does right now.

“Should we wake the kids for this?” Michonne asks, glancing at Carol and Rachel. Carol’s eyes find Daryl’s and she shrugs helplessly.

“Might be good,” Daryl says. “They both lost people they loved with no time to mourn, you know? This might help ‘em make sense of it some.” 

“Rachel?” Carol asks, turning to the only other mother in the group, but she seems just as uncertain. 

“They never taught me how to handle a situation like this in any of those parenting books,” she says, and the words are meant to be a joke, but there’s no inkling of humor in her voice.

“Why don’t we ask them?” Glenn says softly from up on the balcony. He gets to his feet and helps Maggie up, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “Let them make the decision for themselves?” 

When no one has any objections, Daryl says, “I’ll go talk to them.” He doesn’t wait for permission, wanting to get out of the somber tension of the room and happy to use this as an excuse. He walks past Hershel on his way to the bedroom and claps a hand on his shoulder. Hershel doesn’t react.

The door is partially ajar and Daryl slips inside silently. There’s a single candle lit on the dresser being used as a nightlight. The two boys are sharing the bed, curled up together despite the mattress being plenty big for them both. Daryl realizes at once that they’re not asleep when he hears Jesse sniffling and Ryan speaking softly to him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he’s whispering. “No one’s mad at you for forgetting to tell them about people being sick. People forget things when they’re stressed. When things would stress my daddy out at his job he would forget his keys in his car a lot, and then get more stressed out, but he’d laugh about it later when he felt better. You’ll feel better later too, okay?”

“Do you miss your daddy?” Jesse whispers back, his voice thick and wet and Daryl knows he’s been crying.

“...Yeah,” Ryan says after a beat.

“Does it make everything thunderstorm green?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Like when it’s daytime outside but then the sky gets real dark and everything turns green right before a big thunderstorm,” Jesse explains.

“Yeah, I guess that’s how it feels.”

“When I think about my Auntie Barb or my Uncle Merle I get watermelons in my belly because I don’t want them to be dead anymore, but when I think about my sissy Joey things turn thunderstorm green and it makes me cry sometimes.” 

“That’s ‘cause you miss her and are worried about her, but she’s still alive. I saw her, remember? She’s okay.” 

“I wish she would have come with you and your mommy so that we would have been able to find her.”

“Hey,” Daryl says gently, unable to listen anymore. Henry lifts his head from where he’s curled up at the boys’ feet, his dog tags jingling, and the boys startle, shuffling around in the bed to look at Daryl.

“Hi, daddy,” Jesse says, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and Daryl wants to scoop him up into a giant bear hug and keep him there until the world is set right again.

“Hey, kiddos,” he says instead, keeping his composure. He goes and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to scratch Henry behind the ear. “How are you guys doin’?” Ryan shrugs and Jesse twists his mouth, and Daryl nods in understanding. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Me too.”

“My mom said that the adults were gonna put your friend Beth in a grave like they do at cemetaries. Did you?” Ryan asks. 

“Not yet,” Daryl says. “That’s what I came in here to talk to y’all about. We’re gonna put Beth in a grave and say goodbye to her, and we wanted to ask you two if you wanted to come outside and join us.” 

“Why?” Ryan asks. “My mom said me and Jesse shouldn’t look at Beth because it isn’t something kids should see.”

“Yeah, well, this is a lil’ different. When someone dies people have funerals ‘cause it gives ‘em a chance to say goodbye, but we all have lost people we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to. And I don’t just mean us adults. The two of you lost people you loved, too.” Ryan casts his eyes down and Jesse sniffles. “We’re burying Beth, but we’re also saying goodbye to everyone else at the same time, ‘cause we couldn’t before, and we won’t make y’all come out if you don’t wanna, but we thought it was important to let you choose on your own. It’s a big kid decision, I know, but things y’all have seen this past week have made you bigger kids than you was before.” 

The boys are silent for a minute. 

“Will it be sad?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah, bud,” Daryl says with a nod. “People are gonna be sad. But I think people already are sad. I think you’re sad, and Ryan too.” 

“Are you sad?” Ryan asks. Daryl smiles gently at him.

“Mhm. I am. But it’s okay to be.”

“Are you gonna go with the grown ups?” Jesse asks Ryan quietly, looking to the older boy for guidance. Ryan worries the edge of the comforter between his fingers as he considers it.

“I’ll go if you go,” he tells Jesse finally. Jesse gives a firm nod and looks at Daryl with purpose. 

“Aight. Imma go help get ready and when we’re about to start one of us’ll come getcha, okay?” 

“Okay,” the boys say in unison. Daryl regards them for a long moment, before standing up from the bed. 

“Y’all are some badass kids, you know that? Tough as nails and then some.” 

The boys smile at that, and Daryl shows himself out, closing the door behind him.

In the living room, Glenn and Maggie have climbed down to join the others and are hovering awkwardly beside Hershel who still hasn’t moved a muscle.

“They wanna come,” Daryl says to the questioning expressions cast his way upon his return. “I told them we’d come get them when we’re about to start.” His eyes flicker over to the couch, and then to Rick, who’s already looking at him. The two of them have a silent conversation and come to an agreement.

“Hershel,” Rick says tentatively, taking a step towards him. “It’s time to move her.”

When Hershel continues to stare blankly at Beth’s body Daryl goes over with Rick. Beside them, Glenn gives them a nod of assent, Maggie pressed against him, her head buried in his chest. Daryl reaches down to take hold of Beth’s upper half when Hershel’s hand flies out and clamps tightly around Daryl’s wrist. Daryl stills.

“Hershel,” Rick says gently from where he’s about to lift Beth’s legs up. “She can’t stay here. Let us take her.”

Hershel doesn’t look at either one of them, but his grip on Daryl’s wrist tightens.

“We’ll take care of her,” Daryl whispers. “I promise we’ll be real respectful.”

For the first time in hours Hershel tears his gaze from his daughter’s shielded corpse and looks Daryl in the eye, his grief palpable, coming off of him in waves. 

“You can’t bury her,” he says, his voice raspy with disuse.

“We gotta,” Dary says, covering Hershel’s hand with his own. 

“That’s my baby,” Hershel says. “Don’t take my baby girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Daryl says helplessly. “So damn sorry, man, but it’s time. You gotta let us.”

“What if it was your daughter? What if it was Josie being put into the ground? How would you feel?”

Daryl gets a stabbing pain in his chest at the thought. What would he do? Well, he knows it’d take at least three grown men to stop him from jumping into the grave to keep them from taking one of his babies from him. He freezes, unable to tell another father to let his child go.

“Daddy,” says Maggie, coming to Daryl’s rescue. She lets go of Glenn and swoops in, wrapping her arms around Hershel from behind. “She isn’t here anymore, daddy,” she whispers in Hershel’s ear, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Her soul’s with God now. Let us lay her body to rest.”

Hershel shuts his eyes tight, stock still for a moment, before dropping his grip on Daryl abruptly and bringing his hand to his face as he’s wracked with sobs. Rick takes the opportunity to lift up Beth’s lower half and waits for Daryl to follow suit. Daryl stares at Beth’s body—wrapped in an old, dusty sheet and stiff with rigor—and thinks about how much smaller Josie’s body would be; how it would take less time to dig her grave. He swallows hard, unable to move as everything around him turns thunderstorm green.

Daryl isn’t sure how long he hovers motionless, but he startles when there’s a gente hand on his upper arm. He glances behind him to see Glenn giving him a small smile of understanding, and Daryl steps back and lets Glenn take his place. 

As his friends move the body, Daryl seeks out Carol and she catches his gaze. She’s letting tears fall freely, her arms crossed over her chest as if she’s cold. 

_ I’ll find her, _ he thinks at his wife, hoping she can hear it.  _ On my life, we’re not going to bury our child. _

He hasn’t said a word aloud, but Carol nods and he knows she hears the declaration he will go to the end of the Earth to meet. 

There are just some holes he refuses to dig.

*

Jesse keeps his face pressed in the crook of Daryl’s neck, his body hot and his nose running, unable to keep his tears from flowing. Beside the two of them is Carol. She has a death grip on Daryl’s elbow and is resting her head on his shoulder. She’s managing to remain stoic, eyes dry and face void of expression, but Daryl knows better—Carol has always been the type to grieve in private, or, more often, to refuse to do it at all.

No one has to ask Rick to be the one to speak—he accepts the roll on instinct, standing like a preacher over the grave he and Daryl dug only an hour ago. 

As his friend delivers a speech off the cuff, honoring the girl Daryl knows he still feels resentment towards for taking her own life, Daryl is impressed, and also relieved that no one is looking to him to lead this particular charge. The words needed to comfort the heartbroken people surrounding him would never come to him. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

After he says all he can about Beth, Rick rattles off the list of everyone else they’ve lost.

Rachel’s husband.

Glenn’s brother-in-law.

Michonne’s mother.

Barb.

Merle.

Every name feels heavier than the last, and Daryl does his best to let the pain flow through him rather than push it away. It’s not an easy feat, but next to him Carol is still avoiding eye contact with Jesse, and Daryl knows that if he’s gonna pull her back from that place he can’t reach her he’s going to have to lead by example, and so he does. He makes himself stand still and picture all their faces.

He makes himself remember, as he helps his son toss a handful of dirt into the grave, the carefree, giddy face of the little blonde girl dressed in blue at her very first high school prom, not one bit disappointed that her date spent the night playing tonsil hockey with someone else, because Daryl was just her friend. And she was his. Maybe not a best friend, maybe hardly more than an acquaintance, but still someone the world was better off having.

And more than anything, to Daryl she’s a daughter whose father never should have had to bury.

It is, after all, the living who suffer the consequences of the dead.

  
  


*

“Here’s where I found her hair, and Rick and Michonne covered this area up here, but it might be worth havin’ one of us go through again, just in case they backtracked,” Daryl says. He has one of the maps from Jesse’s contraband library book ripped out and lying flat on the hood of Hershel’s truck as he shows Carol the routes they’ve already taken on their search for Josie.

“And this is where Rachel saw her?” Carol asks, pointing at a point on the map Daryl circled several times. 

“Mhm. Then they headed this way, and must have met up with a group at some point. If we could just figure out their destination we’d be able to trace ‘em easy, but there’s nothin’ I can think of that they’d be headin’ towards this way. No big landmarks or nothin’.” 

“Maybe one of them knows a plot of land they think is safe. Another farm maybe. Or maybe they’re doing a long game and are trying to leave Georgia entirely,” Carol suggests. They exchange a glance.

“Nah,” Daryl says with certainty. “No one’s carrying our baby across any state lines.” 

If Carol doubts him she doesn’t say so. Instead, she sighs, and turns around to lean against the truck, crossing her arms and tilting her head back. The sun is directly above them in the sky as it approaches midday, and it highlights the freckles on Carol’s face that haven’t yet faded from summer. A few of her curls have come loose from her bun, and Daryl brushes them back behind her ear. She smiles at him briefly.

“I wanna come with you this time,” she says. “It doesn’t feel right having you out there busting your ass looking for her and me sitting on mine doing nothing.” 

“You haven’t been sittin’ on your ass, you been helpin’ with the group here,” Daryl says, frowning. “And one of us has to stay with JJ, and I’m the one who knows how to track. It’s nothin’ against you or your skills.” 

“I know that, but there are plenty of people here who can keep an eye on him while I help you look for Josie.” 

“You really want him out of our sight while all this shit is goin’ on?” 

“Not especially, but I trust our friends almost as much as I trust you, and I want to help find our daughter.” Daryl studies her for a long moment, causing her to set her jaw. “What?” she asks haughtily, already on the defensive. 

“Sure this ain’t about how you won’t even give JJ the time of day? Won’t hardly acknowledge his existence?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Carol asks, but Daryl shakes his head at her.

“Nah, stop it, don’t play games. Not with me. You been avoiding him for days. Now are you gonna tell me why?” When she refuses to reply, he guides her chin with a finger and makes her look him in the eye. “You know, he told me last night that he thinks you’re mad at him. He thinks you’re bein’ mean ‘cause of somethin’ he did.” 

That breaks Carol’s resolve. She deflates like a balloon, her arms falling to her sides as she groans. 

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbles, bringing her hands up and scrubbing at her tired face. When she looks at Daryl again her eyes are bright. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Don’t know what to do with what, sweetheart?” Daryl asks. She doesn’t answer right away, but Daryl waits patiently.

“With all this love,” she says finally. “I love our children more than anything in the world, and Josie missing hurts  _ so _ bad—like I’d rather lose a limb, Daryl, it’s hell—and now everytime I look at Jesse I just think about how much power he has over me. He could ruin me, Daryl. One wrong step into a walker’s path, one rifle fired wrong, another crazy kidnapper—I was afraid of all the ways our babies could get hurt  _ before _ the world went to shit. Now it just feels like I’m watching my son walk on landmines and there’s nothing I can do about it, and so I just try not to watch at all.” 

“I get it, but you can’t do that to him, Carol. He can ruin us, but we can ruin him right back, only he wouldn’t understand why. We’re the only things in the world that make sense to him right now. Us, and that damn salamander.” 

“Thank God for Captain Beef Stew,” Carol mumbles with a snort. More seriously, she says, “I know that. I do. But tell me you didn’t see Hershel’s face when Rick and Glenn filled that grave with dirt and think about what it’d feel like to bury our children?” 

“Our children are still alive, Carol. And the two of us are alive. And we’re gonna find our daughter, and we’re gonna find a new normal and get on with our lives like we always have, alright?” 

“Alright,” Carol says in a small voice. Daryl steps in between her legs and takes her head in his hands.

“I love you,” he tells her.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses her, long and slow, allowing himself a few deserved seconds of absolute peace, before pulling away, letting his fingers trail down her neck, to her shoulders, and down the length of her arms. He takes her hands in his.

“Now,” he says. “There’s a lil’ boy inside who’s had a hell of a day and would really like his momma right about now. Think you could help him out?” Carol swallows and nods. Without missing a beat, as though afraid she might change her mind, Daryl folds up the map and stuffs it into his back pocket, and then leads her to the cabin. 

Rachel is nearby keeping watch, and sitting on the bottom step of the stoop is Ryan drawing circles in the dirt with a stick, all alone. 

“Hey kid,” Daryl says. “JJ not out here playin’ with you?” 

Ryan looks up, his face much older than Daryl remembers, but he still has baby fat in his cheeks and wide eyes with long lashes. 

“No, he said he didn’t feel like playing. He said he just wanted to take a nap,” Ryan says, clearly bummed that the only other child in the group has left him to his own devices. Daryl glances at Carol who frowns.

“Jesse said he wanted to take a nap?” she asks Ryan. “Are you sure you were talking to the right kid?” 

“That’s what he said,” Ryan says with a shrug. 

Something feeling unkosher, Carol and Daryl both thank Ryan for the intel and head inside. One or two people are tinkering around in the kitchen, and Maggie and Glenn are up on the balcony again, but Carol and Daryl pay them no mind, instead going straight to the bedroom where the door is once again partially ajar. 

Jesse is, to their surprise, truly in bed, but he’s not asleep. He’s lying on his side with Captain Beef Stew’s cage up at his head, and Henry resting his chin on Jesse’s hip, while Jesse flips through a novel he must have found on a shelf or in one of the drawers. 

“Whatcha readin’ there, sweet potato?” Carol asks, standing with one eyebrow raised with Daryl’s arm around her waist. Jesse glances up and is noticeably surprised at his mother addressing him directly.

“It’s about whales,” he says, holding up the book and showing them the cover.  _ Moby Dick.  _ He’s not entirely wrong. 

“Is it any good?” asks Daryl.

“Mm. Henry thinks it’s kind of boring,” he says, settling back in. He scrubs at his nose and sniffles. Carol detaches herself from Daryl and goes over to sit next to Jesse, making Henry scoot with a huff.

“Hey,” she says, petting his messy hair. “I wanted to apologize to you.” 

“What for?” Jesse asks, shifting onto his back to frown up at his mom.

“I haven’t been very nice to you lately, and I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. Momma was just overwhelmed and scared, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay. Maybe you were stressed? Ryan told me that sometimes people forget things when they are stressed, so maybe you just forgot how to be a nice person.” 

Daryl tries and fails to cover up his laugh with a cough. 

“Yeah, well,” Carol says, shooting a pointed glare in Daryl’s direction before turning back to their son. “I remember now. Do you forgive me?” 

“Yes,” Jesse says without hesitation.

“Thank you. I love you very much.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Smiling, Carol leans over and presses a kiss to Jesse’s forehead. She pulls away abruptly and knits her brows together. She then presses the back of her hand to either of Jesse’s cheeks and frowns.

“Hey,” she says slowly. “Do you feel okay, sweet potato?” She looks at Daryl, not saying anything aloud that could worry Jesse, but Daryl can see something’s not right.

“I’m okay. I mean, ‘cept for the slugs,” Jesse says. 

“What slugs are those, bud?” Daryl asks, joining them on the bed. 

“The ones in my nose,” Jesse explains. “They’re making me all stuffy and sneezy and won’t go away.” 

Daryl reaches out and feels Jesse’s forehead as well. His skin is warm to the touch, and Daryl exchanges another look with Carol.

“Have you been crying a lot today, Jesse?” Carol asks.

“At the funeral I did a little, but not so much the rest of the time.” 

“Does anything hurt, baby boy? Like your head or your throat?” 

“Mm, not really. It’s mostly the slugs. They’re making me sleepy and kinda cold. They might be taking my brains.” 

“I thought only aliens sucked brains out,” Carol says, masking her concern by fumbling around with the comforter, making sure it’s tucked securely around Jesse.

“Maybe the slugs are aliens,” Jesse says. 

“Fair,” Daryl mutters. “Hey kid, your momma and me are gonna go out in the other room to talk for a bit. Can you try and rest, and then come find us if you need somethin’? ‘Specially if them slugs get worse?”

“Okay,” Jesse says agreeably. By the time Carol and Daryl reach the door he’s already back to flipping through  _ Moby Dick _ . “That word says ‘boat’,” he tells Henry wisely, pointing at a page. Carol and Daryl watch him a minute longer before going into the other room.

“He has a fever,” Carol whispers the minute they’re out of earshot, cracking the door behind them. “I’ve been so caught up in avoiding him that I didn’t even notice that he was getting sick. What if it’s something serious?”

“Hey, it ain’t your fault,” Daryl says. “I was holdin’ him through that whole funeral and I just thought he was hot from cryin’. He’s been sneezin’ up a storm and I been so distracted that I didn’t think nothin’ of it.” 

“Okay, well if it’s not my fault then it’s not your fault either,” Carol says. She bites her lips and bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “What the hell do we do?” she asks. “Hershel’s not exactly in a place to be giving out medical advice right now.”

“I dunno. It seems like he just has a stuffy nose, and he ain’t on fire or nothin’, his temp’s just elevated. We’ll keep him in bed and make sure he’s drinkin’ water. I think we got some Tylenol from our haul from the dollar store, plus I’ll hunt later and try and bag us some meat and make some bone broth for him. It’s just a cold, and he’s had plenty of ‘em before. We can handle a cold, baby, we done it a million times.”

“Yeah, with the nurses’ hotline on speed dial and a cabinet full of children’s medicine,” Carol says. Daryl gives her a look and she sighs. “Okay, fine, I’ll keep the panic to a minimum for now. Him catching a fever just seems like a bad omen given everything else.”

“Good omens, bad omens, I can’t tell the difference no more,” Daryl says, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “Best thing we can do is take each thing as it comes.”

Carol opens her mouth like she’s gonna say something, when suddenly the front door swings open and Ryan screams, “There’s a naked guy up on the hill!” 

Glenn and Maggie peer over the balcony, Michonne steps out of the kitchen, Daryl and Carol freeze in place, and for a strange, off-center beat of silence everyone stares at Ryan in confusion. Then they hear Rachel outside yelling something, and everyone springs back into action.

Daryl snatches his crossbow off the porch and has it loaded and ready before he even knows what he’s aiming for. Carol comes up beside him with her knife in her hand. 

“What do I do?” Rachel is shouting, pointing a gun at what is, sure enough, a naked man running down the hill into their little hidden valley off the main road. “Do I shoot?” 

Rick runs up from the side of the house where he was cleaning his pistol and hesitates at the sight, clearly thrown for a loop.

“Stop where you are and put your hands where I can see them,” he shouts, regaining his composure quickly and raising his weapon at the interloper, his voice going full police officer. The naked man stumbles against inertia for a moment, before coming to a stop a safe distance away. 

“Don’t shoot!” he calls out, raising his hands above his head.

“Jesus,” Carol mutters from beside Daryl.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Daryl agrees, but Carol shakes her head.

“No, I mean it’s  _ Jesus _ .” 

Daryl furrows his brow and then squints at the man. He’s got a full beard and his long hair is tied in a ponytail hanging down the length of his back. It’s hard to make out details out from this far away, but Daryl has to admit the man does share a canny resemblance to—

“Dude, is that Jesus?” Glenn asks, bursting out the front door and taking in the scene. 

“Rick?” the naked man says then. “Rick Grimes? Is that you?”

“Uh,” Rick falters, looking over his shoulder at Daryl for help. Shrugging, Daryl does the only thing he can think to do.

“Jesus?” he yells loudly across the yard.

“Oh hey!” the naked man says. He lets his arms drop and laughs cheerfully. He comes closer, and Rachel tenses, looking between everyone waiting for someone to explain, and now that the man is only a few feet away, Daryl can say definitively that he is—

“Jesus, what the hell are you doing out here?” Rick says then, lowering his weapon. 

“And where the hell are your clothes?” Maggie adds, coming up behind Glenn.

“Long story, but I’m really glad I found you.” He turns back towards the hill and yells, “Hey, Aaron! Come see who I just stumbled upon!” 

“Aaron’s with you?” Carol asks. 

“Yeah, he’s not far behind,” Jesus says, facing them again. “This is perfect, though, I was hoping I’d run into you, Carol. You too, Daryl.”

“What was that about taking each thing as it comes?” Carol says under her breath to Daryl. He huffs.

“Us?” Daryl asks Jesus, still pointing his crossbow at him out of stunned confusion more than anything else. “Why us?”

“Because,” Jesus says. “Did you guys know your daughter is being held hostage by a group of crazy people about five miles that’a way?” 

He points towards the east, his everything still hanging out there on display, and waits for their reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, remember this story?? i finally got some inspo back to revisit scrap metal. not that me finishing it was ever up for debate. idk how long it'll take me, but i like, mentally would not be able to handle having gotten this far and /not/ finishing it. tbh idek who all still even reads this (that's not a "oh woe is me, no one is reading :(((" so much as a "i genuinely have no clue who's following this but -throws content your way-") but if you are reading it, rest assured, it won't ever be abandoned. it'll get finished, just on a slower schedule than jc and cel.
> 
> that said, i'll prob work on my other wip more for the next week or two bc it's very close to being done and i would like to finish it potentially before july, although we'll see. if you read rtu, you will understand why writing about funerals in this gg chapter was very strange. it felt like i was in the wrong story, lmfao.
> 
> anyway, sorry for that -checks last update date- several month long hiatus, #whups. i'm not gonna put this on any set schedule, but that will probably actually help me update more frequently. especially since we are STARVED for caryl content right now due to my sharona.
> 
> i hope y'all are staying healthy.
> 
> check y'all later,  
-diz 
> 
> p.s. the word count for this chapter was 6,968, and i literally added a word just so it would be 6969. no ragrets


	13. Always So Quiet

The ringing silence that follows is deafening, right up until Daryl processes what Jesus just said and his brain comes back online.

“What? How do you know that?” he asks quickly. The fact that Jesus is standing before them in the nude is forgotten instantly.

“You  _ saw _ her?” Carol asks, dismissing the absurdity of the situation just as quickly.

“Didn’t just see her. We talked to her,” Jesus says. A million and one questions traffic jam in Daryl’s mind, but he’s cut off by another figure barreling down the hill. Jesus follows everyone’s gaze and sees the figure—the person—for himself.

“Hey Aaron,” he calls out. “Look who I found.” 

Like Jesus had a minute or so prior, the person fights against inertia to come to a running stop at the bottom of the hill, and it is then that Daryl can make out the face of his friend from high school, Aaron. Aaron is an absolute mess. He’s wearing a large backpack, is carrying a gun, and every inch of his clothes are covered in drying guts. There is part of an intestine hanging around his neck like the world’s worst lei, and indiscernible chunks fall from his sleeves. The sight is just jarring enough to distract Daryl from his conversation about Josie. 

“What the hell?” Glenn asks from up on the porch.

“Oh my God. Hey guys. I’m so happy we found you, and that you’re alive,” Aaron says when he gets closer. He’s out of breath and smiling warmly. He comes to a stop beside Jesus and looks at him urgently. “Did you tell them about Josie?” he asks. He does not seem fazed by the man’s nudity.

“Was just getting to it,” Jesus says. 

“You said you spoke to her?” Carol asks hopefully.

“More like  _ at _ her,” Aaron clarifies. “She didn’t say anything out loud, but we got a bit of information out of her before we got separated.”

“Separated how?” Daryl asks, getting frustrated. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Aaron says. “Is this house safe? Is there somewhere we can sit and talk? And maybe a place where we can get cleaned up first?” 

Daryl is about to tell them that they don’t need to go have a quaint discussion over afternoon tea, thank you very much. All he wants is information, but Jesus, anticipating him, holds up a hand. 

“We’ll tell you what we know down to the last detail,” he promises. “But Aaron’s right. It’s kind of complicated. Let’s get safe and comfortable and then we’ll talk.” 

Daryl chews on his lower lip and turns to Carol, who doesn’t look any more pleased at the idea of waiting than he is, but still she shrugs.

“It seems like maybe they’ve had a hell of a day,” she says softly to him. “We can wait a few more minutes for answers.”

Daryl sighs but nods reluctantly.

“Tell me this one thing first and then y’all can, er...get some clean drawls on or whatever,” he says to Jesus and Aaron. “Was she hurt?” 

“Her hair was hacked off and a mess, and she was dirty,” Aaron says gently. “But no, she wasn’t hurt. All things considered, she didn’t even seem afraid. Not like how you’d expect a little kid to be, anyway. Neverous, yes, and unhappy, but calm. She was cool as a cucumber, you guys.”

“If anything, she seemed pissed off,” Jesus adds. This puts the smallest of smiles on Daryl’s face. 

“Sounds about right,” he mutters. 

*

_ "I'm tellin' you she said a full sentence. Perfect grammar and everythin'. Came up to us and said, 'Daddy, I want some juice, please.' Even was polite." _

_ Daryl is arguing with the pediatrician about the same thing they always argue about during the twins' checkups: Josie's speech development. _

_ "I heard it, too, for what it's worth," Carol says to the doctor. She's not as militant about fighting the doctor because, as she's told Daryl, she "understands both sides," which makes Daryl mad. His side is that if his daughter doesn't want to talk then that's perfectly fine with him, and the doctor's side is that there's something wrong with Josie, and that shit just won't fly. _

_ "Mm," the doctor says, unconvinced. "Has she said anything else?" He looks down at the toddler sitting on his exam table. She is grumpy, but gave up on throwing a tantrum when it didn't convince her parents to free her from the doctor's clutches. On the other side of the room Jesse is talking a nurse's ear off about everything under the sun, which wouldn't bother Daryl usually, except it's not exactly helping him with his case to have one twin rattling off a dictionary when the other one refuses to deviate from one word responses. _

_ "She's just quiet. What's wrong with bein' quiet?" Daryl asks. He has asked this before. _

_ "Lack of speech at her age could be a sign of developmental delays," the doctor says. He has said this before. _

_ "She ain't delayed. She's smart as hell. And even if she wasn't what difference would it make? She is who she is." _

_ "You know he's not trying to criticize Josie, babe. He just wants to make sure she's healthy," Carol says gently. Daryl scoffs. _

_ "Do  _ you _ think Josie's delayed?" he asks.  _

_ "I think that she doesn't talk much, and if the doctor thinks that's something to keep an eye on then maybe we should." _

_ Daryl huffs an irritated sigh, feeling pinned. He decides to try the one person who might be on his side on this. _

_ "Baby girl," he says, bending down so he and Josie are eye level. "You know you could go your whole entire life not sayin' another word and I'd love you just the same, but can you say somethin' to the doctor just this one time so he'll get off our case." _

_ Josie looks at her dad, and he swears her eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything. _

_ "How 'bout this," Daryl says, not above bribery if it wins him an argument. "If you talk to the doctor we can get ice cream before we go home. How's that sound, hm? Will you do it for the chocolate?" _

_ Carol snorts, shaking her head, amused, and the doctor doesn't seem hopeful, but Josie seems to be mulling it over. After several long seconds she turns towards the doctor and points a small finger at his neck. _

_ "That's a stethoscope," she says, clear as day. The doctor tucks his chin to look at the stethoscope hanging around his neck, before snapping back up and frowning at her. _

_ "Yes it is," he says, bewildered. Carol stifles a laugh behind her hand, and Daryl grins wide. _

_ "Damn straight it is, baby girl," he says, snatching Josie up in his arms and planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. She scrunches her nose in response.  _

_ "Chocolate," she tells Daryl sternly, wiping her face. _

_ "As much chocolate as you want," Daryl agrees. _

_ "Wrong," says Carol. _

_ "As much chocolate as momma says you can have," he amends. To the doctor he says, "Didn't I tell you? What kid her age do you know that can pull the word 'stethoscope' out like that?" _

_ "It was impressive," the doctor says. "Although if her vocabulary is that advanced then that begs the question why she doesn't—" _

_ "Oh my god, we just can't win, can we Jojo?" Daryl interrupts, shaking his head forlornly at his daughter. "You got anythin' else you wanna say to the doc? Make him realize he's got you all wrong?" _

_ Josie glances at the doctor and stares at him for a beat. _

_ "I don't like you," she tells him flatly. Daryl bursts out laughing, pressing his face against her sun and moon t-shirt.  _

_ "Well," Carol says then, clearing her throat. "Maybe she wasn't as polite that time, but you wanted her to talk to you, right?" _

_ "Mm," says the doctor. Josie pushes Daryl's head up so that he'll look at her. _

_ "Chocolate," she says.  _

_ Daryl nods and tugs gently at her one of her little pigtails. _

_ "Chocolate," he agrees. _

*

Hershel has found a bottle of Smirnoff. Daryl had seen it in the kitchen cabinet during the initial sweep of the house but hadn’t put much thought into it other than it might be useful if they needed to disinfect a wound. Hershel, however, has found a different use for it. Daryl discovers this when he, Glenn, and Rick lead Jesus and Aaron to the other side of the house where they have a basin of water and soap already set up from where Rachel had attempted to give Ryan a washing with an old dish rag. 

Hershel, who had made himself scarce after the funeral, is now sitting against the tool shed, his arms resting on bent knees and the bottle dangling loosely in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge them when they come around back; doesn’t even blink at the strangers—one naked and one covered head-to-to in innards. He opts instead to stare blankly into the middle distance with bloodshot eyes.

“I got this one,” Glenn mutters. He breaks away from the others and goes to Hershel. Daryl wants to offer a hand, but he has more pressing things to attend to, so when Aaron asks,

“What happened?” in a quiet voice, Daryl says simply,

“His daughter died last night,” and lets the statement speak for itself.

“Do you guys need something to change into?” Rick asks, eyeing Jesus and Aaron over. “We don’t have much, but we can probably scrounge up something.”

“We’ve got a couple outfits in my bag,” Aaron says. He takes off his backpack and sets it on the ground. “And I might try and get the worst off of these and leave them out to dry.” He gestures down at his outfit stiff with blood.

“‘Course,” Rick says.

“ _ After _ you tell us what happened to my daughter,” Daryl amends. Like hell is he waiting for them to do laundry before getting any information.

“Of course,” Aaron says.

“C’mon, let’s give them a bit of privacy to get cleaned up. They can meet us inside when they’re done,” Rick says to Daryl. He takes him by the shoulder and doesn’t let go until Daryl reluctantly begins to follow him back to the front of the house. They pass by Glenn, who’s kneeling in front of Hershel, whispering something that, by the looks of it, is falling on deaf ears.

Inside, Carol is waiting for him on the couch, perched on the edge of the cushion, her elbows resting on her knees, and her hands steepled in front of her mouth. She looks up at him expectantly when he walks in, and he hesitates a moment, remembering what had been lying on that couch only this morning, before casting the thought out of his mind and taking a seat next to her. She unsteeples her fingers and takes his hand in hers.

“Did you check on Jesse?” Daryl asks her quietly.

“Poked my head in,” she says. “He heard the commotion and wanted to know what was going on. I told him who was here and he said he remembered Jesus from that Friendsgiving reunion back home last year, and, I quote, ‘heard him telling someone that daddy was still a DILF, and when I asked Joey what that meant she didn’t know.’ Then he asked me if I knew what it meant.” 

“What’d you tell him?”

“I told him that it meant that daddy was very pretty.”

“Great,” Daryl mutters, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Carol cracks a small smile and then nudges his shoulder with hers.

“Hey?” she whispers.

“Hm?” 

“Do you think they really might know where our baby is?” 

Daryl holds her hand tighter and says, “I fuckin’ hope so. But what the hell had’ta have happened for it to be a ‘long story,’ and for them to not be able to save her themselves is beyond me.” 

“I guess we’ll have to let them explain it and hope that whatever they tell us leads us to her.”

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time Jesus and Aaron make their way inside. Rick lets them in and then goes by the wall with his arms crossed, as though he’s standing guard. Aaron is in clean clothes, and Jesus is in clothes period, which is a great improvement for everyone involved. 

Aaron takes a seat in an armchair and Jesus sits on the accompanying ottoman with his legs criss-crossed underneath him. 

“Well?” Carol says before the two men have time to even properly settle in. To their credit, neither man seems put off by her and Daryl’s impatience.

“We’ve been heading east towards Virginia,” Aaron starts, jumping right in, not bothering to waste time starting his story with any embellishments. “I’ve got family friends in Alexandria, and we were thinking it may be somewhere we can hunker down until this thing blows over. Or until it...does whatever it’s going to do.” 

“It’s only been the two of us. We set out a few days ago, but it’s been slow going. All the roads have been blocked and we’ve had to backtrack a million times,” Jesus adds. “We had a couple close calls and started thinking it might be better if we joined up with others headed our way. Safety in numbers and all that.” 

“We’re not stupid,” Aaron assures them. “Two gay men striding into a group of random strangers in rural Georgia wouldn’t be a smart idea even if the world wasn’t crumbling. But still, it was something we were keeping in mind, in case we came across anyone who might be trustworthy.

“Sometime yesterday we saw that a sizable group of people had made camp in this construction lot that was cordoned off with high, barbed wire fences. It was right next to the forest, and Jesus suggested we stick around for a while and keep an eye on them from the trees—see what kind of vibe we got from them and decide if it would be safe to approach them. That was around, what, mid-afternoon?” Aaron glances at Jesus questioningly, and the other man nods.

“Something like that,” he says. “They weren’t especially forthcoming with information just by watching them, but what we did see was weird. Like the way they were guarding the entrance into the lot.” 

“How were they guarding it?” Carol asks. Daryl is more interested in where Josie comes into play here, but lets the man answer anyway.

“They had four flesh eaters chained up in front of the locked gate. Like some sort of repellant. They were all huddled up a good distance from the fences, and so if any other flesh eaters came up to the gate they ran into the other ones and would keep walking because they wouldn’t see or smell the humans inside.” 

“How the hell did they manage to wrangle four walkers?” Daryl asks, interested in spite of himself.

“We didn’t know; still aren’t totally sure,” Aaron says. “They were already chained up when we started keeping watch and we didn’t see anyone go in or out of the lot the whole time we were there.”

“Josie?” Carol asks then.

“Didn’t recognize her at first,” Jesus says. “Not with her hair cut short, not to mention we were far away, but neither of us could shake the feeling that she seemed familiar, and after we got a couple good looks at her Aaron was the one who figured it out.”

“I may have only met her in person a handful of times, but I follow your Instagram closely enough to know what she looks like,” Aaron says, grinning at Daryl, who doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes. He has—or, he supposes,  _ had _ —an Instagram account, wherein he follows two people (Carol and @blueheelerlife), and his page is solely pictures of his kids, with the exception of one or two of Carol and Henry, and all of them are captioned with a single heart emoji. 

“What was she doing? Who was she with?” he asks, and Aaron gets serious again.

“She was tied at the hip of this woman neither of us knew,” he says. “A thin, blonde woman. That ring any bells?”

“She’s the bitch who took Josie,” Carol says bitterly. “She and her husband. Daryl got shot in the process.” 

“For real? Are you okay?” Jesus says, both he and Aaron looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“‘M fine, don’t worry about it,” Daryl says, waving a hand. “We’ll tell our story after we hear yours.” 

“Well, whoever this woman was, she wouldn’t let Josie out of her sight. If Josie so much as walked two feet away she was on her in a second,” Jesus says. “The group wasn’t huge—maybe ten people maximum—so it wasn’t hard for us to figure out that the two of you and Jesse weren’t among them.” 

“It didn’t sit right,” says Aaron with a frown. “Even if something had happened to you, we couldn’t figure out why Josie would be with a bunch of strangers instead of with your brother, Daryl, or your aunt, Carol. Or hell, we thought that even Glenn or Rick would have made more sense. Wouldn’t they have gone with you if you had evacuated Atlanta, and was it really possible that none of you survived except Josie? I dunno, it felt weird, so we went on alert and tried to figure out how we would be able to talk to her and find out what happened.” 

“Turned out, we didn’t have to do shit,” Jesus says. Aaron snorts with a nod. “I thought we were hidden pretty damn well. I had us climb to the top of this big oak tree that no one would think to look up at, except—”

“Except Josie’s always lookin’ up,” Daryl finishes for him. 

“Exactly. She saw us before night had even fallen, but if anything can be said for your daughter, it’s that she isn’t a narc. She would stare at us whenever she could get away with it, and we kept expecting her to tell on us, but she never did. Not even when the leader of the group went and was all weird with her.”

“Weird how?” Carol and Daryl both ask sharply in unison.

“We never got a good look at the leader. We think she’s a woman, but it was hard to tell. She had her hood up the whole time, and everyone in the group was dressed in filthy, baggy clothes, so it wasn’t easy to make out a body shape,” Aaron explains. “But at one point in the evening she came over and tried talking with Josie; squatted down in front of her and started saying something. We couldn’t hear her, but whatever it was she said made the woman dragging Josie around uncomfortable. She held Josie to her almost like she was shielding her. The conversation lasted only a few minutes, and then the leader got up and rustled Josie’s hair, which I think pissed her off because she scowled after her, and then squirmed around until the blonde woman stopped holding onto her. A few minutes later she was back to staring at us.”

“‘Kay, but you said you talked to her. When’d that happen?” Daryl asks, impatience winning out by now. 

“Your kid’s clever, dude,” Jesus says.

“Very,” Aaron agrees. “We weren’t exactly expecting to spend the night in a tree, but we couldn’t just go find shelter somewhere else with Josie there, and we definitely didn’t trust them enough to go waltzing in, so by the time the sun went down we were pretty much stuck.

“They had one person on watch, but they were more guarding the front by the flesh eaters. Everyone else was camped out on the concrete in the little camp, and Josie was with that woman and who I assume was her husband. But clever little thing, she waited until they were asleep and slipped out of her sleeping bag and snuck over to the fence. I was dozing, but Jesus woke me, and we both hopped down and met her there. Then we tried talking to her, which, well, didn’t go the way we expected.”

“She wouldn’t talk,” Jesus says. “Flat out refused. I dunno if she was afraid she’d be heard or what.”

“She goes mute when she’s overwhelmed,” Carol says quietly. “You say she was calm? Maybe she was outwardly, but when she goes quiet that's how you know she’s hurting inside. She just doesn’t always show it.” Carol blows out a breath and sits up straighter, schooling her face into a neutral expression, and Daryl could almost laugh at the people who say Josie only takes after  _ him _ .

“Well, whatever the reason,” Aaron says gently. “We had to get creative to get answers from her. We went with basic ‘yes or no’ questions, because she seemed okay with nodding and shaking her head. First thing we asked was if she was hurt because her clothes were just  _ covered _ in blood.”

“‘Scuse me?” Daryl asks, but both Jesus and Aaron are already waving their hands to get him off the ledge.

“Wasn’t her blood,” Jesus says. “We worked out that it was flesh eater blood. It’s where we got the idea to...well, I’m getting ahead of myself. One thing at a time.”

“Right,” Aaron agrees. “Once we were sure she wasn’t hurt we tried to understand how she ended up with the group. We asked if you and Carol had died and she said no. Asked if you got hurt and she didn’t seem to know how to answer it because she shrugged. Asked if she was safe with the people she was with and she shook her head no, which made us worry, of course. What else did we ask her?” He looks at Jesus who screws up his face in thought.

“Asked her if you guys knew where she was and she said no. Asked if you guys were looking for her, and at first she shrugged, but then thought about it and nodded, so she must know you wouldn’t abandon her. We asked if she knew where you guys were. Said no. Asked if she knew where she last saw you. Said yes. Asked her where, hoping she might use her words, but that’s when she surprised us.”

“Did she talk?” Carol asks.

“No,” Aaron says. “But she answered us. After we asked her where she last saw you she kinda bit her lip and then looked at the sky for a minute. We looked up too, not sure what she was doing, but when she looked back down at us she pointed. I said, ‘your parents are that way?’ and she nodded. She knew the direction she had come from.”

“Clever as hell.” 

“Seriously. We weren’t entirely convinced until Jesus said something like, ‘you came from the west?’ and she shook her head. And so he said ‘north?’ and she stamped her foot and got kind of annoyed, pointing more forcefully until one of us finally said ‘northwest?’ and she nodded with a sigh, looking at us like we were the biggest tools.” 

“How old is she? Can’t be more than seven, right?” Jesus asks.

“Just turned six,” Carol says, a smile in her voice.

“She can track usin’ the stars,” Daryl says in an unintentional whisper. “Used’ta sit on our back porch and I’d show her how. Tell you the truth, though, she’s damn near better at it than me, the way she’s always studyin’ the sky.” He thinks about the brand-new telescope sitting in the backyard of the house he may never return to and feels the corners of his eyes prickle hot when he thinks about how she never had a chance to use it before they were all uprooted from their lives. He’ll find her a new one, he decides then. He’ll get her back and then will find her a telescope, even if he has to go to the ends of the Earth to do it.

“What happened then? Something must have happened if you’re here and she’s not,” Carol says. 

“We got a little more information from her; managed to suss out that she’d been away from you for several days,” Jesus says. “But then that woman who Josie was with started waking up and things got cut short.”

“We asked Josie if she wanted us to talk to the woman and explain to her that we knew her and her parents, but she shook her head harder at that than anything, so we figured it wasn’t safe. The woman started making a fuss, making a lot of noise, calling out a name that wasn’t Josie’s. It sounded more like ‘Finn,’ but we never got a chance to find out for sure. Josie started shooing us away, like she was afraid for the others to see us. We didn’t want to leave her, but we also didn’t want to ruin our chances of helping her if we were caught, so we ducked back into the forest, and the last thing we heard was the woman coming up and yelling at Josie for leaving her sight, and then another voice, another woman, telling the first woman to be quiet, but we couldn’t see what was happening beyond the trees.”

“And that’s it? Y’all just left her?” Daryl asks, aghast. It sounds to him like what Josie had been trying to tell them was that the people she was with are dangerous, and if she's with dangerous people that means she's in danger.

“Before we left her we told her we’d try to get her from the group, and if for some reason we couldn’t, then we’d try and find you,” Jesus says softly. “We weren’t about to leave her with nothing. We also told her to leave clues. Like if the group moved from that spot then we wanted her to leave behind clues for us to track. Anything that would stick out.”

“We had no plans of leaving without her, I swear,” Aaron adds. “But not long after we got swarmed by flesh eaters. They pushed us the other way, clear out of the forest. They drove us nearly a mile away. If I didn’t know better I’d say it almost felt deliberate, like they were leading us away from the lot.

“Once we got away the two of us ended up in this dilapidated shack, taking turns sleeping for a few hours each until daybreak and we felt like we could move on. We debated if it would be smarter to go back to the group or to try and find you. Since we weren’t sure what happened to the herd that ran us out, and we didn’t know how much firepower the group had, we figured it made the most sense to at least head this way and see if there was any indication that you’d been nearby. And here we are.”

“Okay,” Rick pipes up from beside the door. “But why were you covered in guts? And why was Jesus naked?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron says, like he forgot. “When we were trying to hide from the herd last night that’s when Jesus put two-and-two together and figured out why Josie was covered in blood. It was the same thing as the flesh eaters at the gate—a repellant. We killed one, cut it open, and covered our clothes with all its...you know.  _ Stuff. _ None of them bothered us the rest of the night.”

“That explains you, but again, why were you  _ naked _ ?” Rick asks, and Jesus shrugs.

“We were about to get cleaned up at a creek on the other side of this hill a ways, and we were taking turns for safety, and a few flesh eaters came up and we had to make a beeline for it. We got away. My clothes didn’t.” 

Daryl couldn’t care less about Jesus or the mystery of his nudity, and Carol must feel the same, because she says, “Stop, everyone shut up.” She stands and points a finger at Jesus and Aaron. “You’re taking us to where you saw my daughter. Right the fuck now.” 

*

“Are you sure you’re going to come back?” Jesse asks, frowning up at his mother as she smoothes back his hair that’s a little less floofy from being damp with sweat. He’s still got a fever, and his face is flushed, but his eyes are attentive and worried.

“Yes, sweet potato, your daddy and me are gonna come back. And even if something was to happen you have a whole house of people here who aren’t gonna let a thing happen to you, okay?”

“I don’t want something to happen,” Jesse says. "To you and daddy,  _ or _ to me." His hands cling to the sides of Captain’s cage.

“We ain’t even goin’ that far, kid,” Daryl promises. “There’s just somethin’ Jesus and Aaron gotta show us. We’ll come back soon as we can.”

“And while you’re gone I want you to try and get some rest. Sleeping helps fight the slugs,” Carol says. Jesse sighs defeatedly and nods.

“M’kay,” he mutters. “But be careful though.”

“We will.” Carol kisses him on the cheek and then steps aside so Daryl can say goodbye.

“Daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby boy?” Daryl asks, grimacing a little when he puts the back of his hand on Jesse’s forehead and feels how hot he is.

“Is where you’re going have to do with Joey? Do you know where she is?” 

Daryl exchanges a quick look with Carol, who bites her lower lip and shrugs.

“Maybe,” Daryl says, not wanting to give his son—or himself—false hope. “Not sure what we’re gonna find. That’s why we gotta go look.”

“If you see Joey will you tell her that I have been taking real good care of Henry for her?” 

“If I see Jojo I’ll bring her right back here and you can tell her yourself, how’s that?” The corner of Jesse’s mouth quips up, and he nods. “Love you so much,” Daryl says quietly, pressing a kiss on the little boy’s cheek where Carol did moments before. 

“Love you, too.” Jesse looks deflated, his usual, natural enthusiasm diminished. He coughs into his elbow and sniffles, and Daryl wishes with his everything that in order to find one child he didn’t have to leave the other.

*

He had argued with Carol about her coming along. It hadn’t been a long argument, but it had been heated, with both of them firm in their convictions. Daryl couldn’t fathom leaving Jesse without one of them, nor could he fathom Carol going with Jesus and Aaron alone, so in his mind the only option was her staying behind.

“My son is in a secure house and is surrounded with people who would die to protect him, but my daughter is with a group of strangers who might be dangerous, maybe even deadly, and you want to go fight them with a bullet wound in your leg and a crossbow,” she had told him, taking his hands in hers. "Jesse’s safe.  _ You  _ are not. I might be a mother, but I’m also a wife, and right now it’s my husband who needs my help. Please don’t ask me to stay behind.” 

And so he didn’t, much to his chagrin. It wasn’t even that he didn’t trust Jesse in Rick and Glenn’s hands—it was that, besides his children, there was no one on the planet he loved more than he loved Carol, and that meant that no matter how capable she might be, he would never, ever want her in harm’s way.

But she’s beside him on the truck bed anyway, leaning on him, her knife tucked in her belt loop and a pistol on her lap. Jesus and Aaron are driving, following a route they know that Daryl and Carol don’t; one that will hopefully lead them to Josie.

The two of them don’t talk; don’t need to. They’re both thinking the same things anyway. 

_ Will she be there?  _

_ Is she hurt?  _

_ What if we’re too late? _

Neither of them will voice these worries, as if it would jinx them somehow. That’s how it feels to Daryl, and because he knows her better than he knows the back of his own hand, he’s certain that’s how it feels to her too.

The drive doesn’t take long—Daryl hadn’t lied to Jesse when he said they weren’t going far. He hadn’t been sure if that mattered much, though. He’s quickly learning that in this new world there’s just as much chance of there being something waiting to kill you six miles away as there is six feet away. But they get lucky this time around, and don’t run into any trouble, the herd that chased Jesus and Aaron out of the woods last night mysteriously gone.

“Figured it’d be safer for us to walk the last bit,” Aaron starts to explain once the truck is in park and he’s hopping out of the driver’s side door. “It’s about a quarter mile up this road.” He points at a gravel road with trees on either side. Carol and Daryl look at each other. Impulsively, he leans over and kisses her on the mouth before shouldering his crossbow and jumping down off the truck bed. He holds out a hand to help her to the ground, and once she’s there she gives him a quick peck to the mouth as well. They share a small smile, knowing that they’re trying to reassure each other over things they’re not going to stop worrying about until they’re resolved, no matter how many kisses they share. 

The walk down the road takes forever. They trail behind Jesus and Aaron. Carol holds Daryl’s hand and carries her pistol in the other. He wants to remind her not to pull any triggers unless she has to, lest they draw in walkers, but he figures she knows; figures she’s carrying the pistol not because she intends to hit a walker, but because she expects to come face-to-face with a  _ living _ enemy, and the gun gives her the courage to believe they’ll win any fight they have to if Josie is the prize.

“Wait,” Jesus says suddenly, throwing out an arm. He  _ does _ have his knife in his hand, and his fingers tighten around the handle. “There’s something up there.” His voice is a low whisper, but it’s enough to send Daryl into fight mode. He drops Carol’s hand in order to arm his bow, and then nods at Jesus and Aaron to lead them further. From beside him he hears the sound of a safety clicking off.

Daryl can make out the construction warehouse through the trees, but can’t see the lot his friends said his daughter was in. What he does see, curled in the fetal position in the dirt, is a man. Not just a man, but one he recognizes. One whom he last saw carrying his screaming daughter away from him. 

Blind rage fills him before sense has a chance to, and he rushes forward, pushing in between Jesus and Aaron, until the man is at his feet and he has his crossbow pointed directly at his temple. 

“Where the fuck is my daughter?” he spits at Clyde. Clyde blinks up at him, a pained expression on his face, and that’s when Daryl notices there’s a rip in his pants and a large, gushing wound going from just above his knee, all the way down his calf to the base of his Achilles tendon. Recognition seems to wash over Clyde, and he groans. 

“Not my fucking day,” he mumbles. Daryl can’t help it—he kicks him right in the stomach, making him grunt. His weak coughs turn into humorless chuckles as he unfurls himself enough to look at Daryl and say, “I don’t have her. She does.” 

“Where is she, then? Where’s your batshit wife?” Daryl’s vaguely aware of the others coming up behind him, but his attention is fully on Clyde. 

“Not with my wife.” Clyde’s face darkens. “I don’t have a wife anymore.” 

“What? Man, stop talkin’ bullshit and tell me where my daughter is before I put this bolt through your skull.” 

“You know, it wasn’t my fault Finn died,” Cyde says then, seemingly unconcerned with the weapon pointed at his face. “I told Aga, I  _ told _ her to be careful with the guns; that she didn’t know how to handle them properly. And when it went off in her hand...did you know they still turn even if they aren’t bit? They do. And you gotta put them down just the same. And lord knows she couldn’t do it, so I did. I drove the knife into his skull. And then afterwards she was just  _ broken _ , and I had to console her. Me. Can you imagine? I wasn’t allowed to be mad that she...But then your daughter was there and Aga was so out of her mind that I thought that maybe she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. I knew it was wrong, but she was losing it. I left you with your son, though. You got to keep your son.”

“He asked you a question, goddamnit,” Carol says then, her gun joining Daryl’s bow. “Where’s my daughter.”

“I told you,” Clyde says louder. “ _ She _ has her.”

“Then where’s your wife?” Carol shouts back, losing patience fast.

“I said it wasn’t my wife.  _ She _ is not my wife. She took my wife. My wife took my son,  _ she _ took my wife, and then left with your daughter.”

“Who are you talking about? Who is she?” Aaron asks gently, trying to mitigate some of the tensions flying. 

“I don’t know who she is, really. We joined up with her because she was good at staying alive and we were bad at it. We followed all her rules, and she kept them from hurting us. But then she and Aga got into that fight when the kid got up in the middle of the night and Aga started yelling like a maniac. You have to be quiet, that’s one of the rules, you  _ have to be quiet _ . That’s why she liked your daughter so much. She’s quieter than all of us.”

“What are you talking about?” Jesus asks, furrowing his brow at him. “Do you mean the leader of the group you were in?”

“Leader?” Clyde laughs. “Oh she wasn’t just a leader. She said she was our Alpha, and we were her pack.” 

“Oh my god, fuck this,” Daryl says. He straightens up and fights his way through the trees to see the construction lot for himself, but stops in his tracks when he does. 

“What is it?” Carol asks, breaking through the treeline too and finding him standing stock still. Her gaze follows his and she gasps.

The lot itself is empty, the gates Jesus and Aaron claimed were guarded by walkers now open and defenseless. But in front of the fence, only a few feet away, there’s a large branch stuck in the ground like a stake, and on top of that stake is the head of Aga, still moving, her jaw making slow motions side-to-side, her eyes glazed and staring out at nothing. 

Daryl pats Carol’s elbow to get her to follow him back to the road. When they get there Clyde is smiling at them.

“I told you,” he says. “I told you, she took my wife from me. I didn’t know until daylight. I thought they ended their fight, and we went back to sleep. But then it was morning and I was being pulled by the neck of my shirt out of my sleeping bag and being dragged, a knife at my neck. The others just watched as she took me outside the fence and showed me what she did. She said it was what happened when you didn’t follow the rules. I tried to fight, but she’s so much stronger than me. She knocked me down and pinned me to the ground with knives.” Clyde holds up shaking hands to show them the wounds that go all the way through his palms. “Then she wrapped my legs in wire and said that the dead could decide what to do with me. And the whole time that kid, that  _ fucking _ kid, was by her side. Just watching. So quiet. Always so goddamn quiet.” 

“She took Josie?” Carol asks, sounding shell shocked. “Where?” 

“Wherever she wants to go,” Clyde says. “It was like this world was made for her, the way she walks through it. You can look for her, but you should know that as much as my wife may have wanted your daughter, she wants her more. She said she needed someone with her discipline, who could grow up to be her second in command. A Beta, maybe. Maybe a Gamma if she finds a Beta while she’s still too young. I heard her say it as she led her away. And you can try and fight her, but I’m telling you now, you’re not gonna win.” 

Daryl looks Clyde over. He’s a mess and a half, his clothes covered in walker guts, his hands useless, and his leg torn to shreds from where Daryl assumes he fought himself free from the wire. Whoever this woman is, she is certainly stronger than Clyde. But so is Daryl.

“You’re wrong,” he says. It doesn’t seem worth it to Clyde to argue. 

“What should we do now?” Aaron asks quietly, looking at Carol and Daryl. 

“Regroup and then track this fucker down,” Daryl says with certainty. “Nothin’ else  _ to _ do.” 

“What about him?” Jesus asks.

“Asshole got himself into this mess, he can figure out how to get himself out,” Daryl spits.

“But if we could have helped him and he dies out here, does that make us killers?” Aaron asks. 

“Y'all can sit here and give him stitches and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for all I care, but I ain’t takin’ him within a hundred feet of Jesse.” 

Carol is quiet beside Daryl, and when he looks over to ask her what she thinks she’s in the process of raising her gun again, aiming it at Clyde.

“Carol,” Daryl whispers harshly. He tries to put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs it away.

“He took our baby,” she says, staring Clyde down. “And then let some maniac take her from him.” 

“I know, but you ain’t a killer. He’ll pro’ly die out here anyway. No treatment for his wounds? No food or water? Won’t last another day.” 

“What if he does though?” Carol mutters. “What if he survives, and then keeps on surviving, and is just out in the world being alive while my baby is lost somewhere without her mother or father because of him?” 

“We’ll find Josie,” Daryl says. “Whether he’s dead or alive, he don’t matter none no more. Bigger fish to fry.” 

Carol’s arm trembles for a moment, but she slowly starts to lower it.

“I know you want the kid back,” Clyde says, unfazed by Carol entirely. “But she might be safer with her. She’s strong. You say you're stronger and yet you won’t even kill the man who kidnapped your daughter. What kind of mother are you?"

He’s probably goading them, wanting someone to put him out of his misery, but that doesn’t mean Daryl is any less stunned when, in the blink of an eye, Carol’s arm snaps back up and her finger pulls the trigger, sending a bullet through Clyde’s forehead like a bullseye.

The four of them are still as statues for several seconds, Carol’s mouth hanging open as she stares at the man she just murdered in cold blood.

“What did I just do?” she says, her voice barely audible. From up ahead snarls start sounding as walkers amble towards the gunshot. 

“We gotta go,” Jesus says. He takes a few steps backwards waiting for everyone else to follow. 

“What did I just do?” Carol says again, louder. The snarls are louder too.

“Get to the truck, we’re right behind you,” Daryl says over his shoulder to Jesus and Aaron, who nod and break into a run. To Carol he says, “Babe, we gotta move.”

“What did I do, Daryl?” 

“Carol, come on.” 

She looks at him helplessly, her whole body shaking. Daryl takes her hand and starts pulling her forward as the first walker appears. A few more seconds pass before she swallows hard and falls in step with Daryl, fleeing the scene of the crime. 

Back at the truck they clamber into the bed and Aaron peels off before the walkers have a chance to catch up. 

Carol and Daryl didn’t talk on the drive down.

They don’t talk on the way back either.

A wall of tension between them, the two of them remain quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again, remember me? 
> 
> josie not talking and then randomly saying sentences is based off of my best friend, who didn't say anything for two years, and then went into his mom's room one day and said, "i peed in my diaper," and then later when they were outside, pointed at a stop sign and said, "that's an octagon." he's next level smart, but much nicer than josie is. josie's kind of a jerk, but we love her
> 
> anyway, i really really really want to get back into a regular schedule. i have failed the last few times, but past performance isn't a predictor of future success, right? so my goal is to update this and my other wip "umbra" alternating sundays. so if i manage not to suck gas gauge's next update should be september 6th. fingers crossed, my dudes. i will do my best. we'll see if my best is good enough. (how in the ever loving fuck did i used to update twice a week??) 
> 
> today's in memoriam:  
-aga, pike style  
-clyde--carol's first kill! hooray...?
> 
> i manic wrote 80% of this over the last few hours at my night shift, so imma go crash now. 
> 
> goodbye,
> 
> -diz
> 
> (btw, i usually don't like to self-promote, but i'm really excited about "umbra," to the point where i almost didn't use it for a fic bc i thought the plot could be a good original piece, so if you're interested in weird speculative fiction and astronomy mb check it out. ok goodbye for real)


	14. What Guides Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: i'm sorry

_ (9:19p) *I keep thinking about that deer.* _

_ (9:21p) -r u feelin bad abt it?- _

_ (9:22p) *Idk, not exactly. I'm not sure what feelings I'm having about it.* _

_ (9:23p) -sry if its fukin u up we dnt have 2 go hunting anymore- _

_ (9:25p) *No, don't apologize, I'm the one who asked to go. And I don't even know if I didn't like it.* _

_ (9:25p) *I mean, I definitely liked parts of it. Like the part where you stood behind me to adjust how I was holding the rifle certainly was a good time. ;) ;) ;) * _

_ (9:26p) -omfg stfu- _

_ (9:27p) *Baby, we're moving in together in a week and a half and your dick was in my mouth three hours ago, how are you still so easy to embarrass?* _

_ (9:30p) -anyway- _

_ (9:31p) *Lmao, I love you, you dork.* _

_ (9:32p) -yeah yeah- _

_ (9:32p) -ilu2- _

_ (9:33p) -mb the hunting stuff wudnt b bugging u so bad if ur first kill had been smthn smaller like a rabbit or sum shit- _

_ (9:34p) *You're right. It's much better to kill Bambi's friends than Bambi himself.* _

_ (9:35p) -ur hilarious- _

_ (9:36p) *You're just jealous that I'm so good at hunting that I bagged a big kill on my very first hunt and you got a whole lotta nada. Whomp whomp.* _

_ (9:37p) -it was a lucky shot- _

_ (9:38p) *Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey bunches.* _

_ (9:40p) *I think what's bothering me is that I enjoyed it.* _

_ (9:41p) -wdym?- _

_ (9:42p). *I enjoyed it. I got a thrill out of it. And idk, it feels wrong to be happy about taking the life from something.* _

_ (9:42p) *When you hunt do you enjoy it when you kill something or am I just a psychopath?* _

_ (9:43p) -aint a psychopath- _

_ (9:43p) -sure i enjoy it but its not the killing tht i like i dnt think- _

_ (9:44p) *What is it then?* _

_ (9:45p) -it feels gud 2 accomplish smthn n it feels gud 2 kno tht im the one who got food on the table- _

_ (9:45p) -if i was just doin it 4 the hell of it then i think it wudnt feel so gr8- _

_ (9:45p) -but i do it w/ a goal in mind n its nice 2 meet tht goal u kno?- _

_ (9:46p) *Ig that makes sense.* _

_ (9:46p) *What if I enjoyed it for the wrong reasons tho? What if this is how I find out I crave blood and must kill again to fulfill my dark needs?* _

_ (9:47p) -do u feel like goin n puttin a bullet thru an animal rn 4 no reason?- _

_ (9:48p) *No.* _

_ (9:49p) -then i think ur prob gud bb- _

_ (9:49p) -ppl who crave blood dnt worry abt whether or not its a bad thing 2 do- _

_ (9:49p) -u were full of adrenaline n did wut u set out 2 do n also showed up ur bf- _

_ (9:50p) -thtd make anyone feel kinda gud- _

_ (9:51p) *I did show you up real fucking good, huh?* _

_ (9:52p) -jfc it wasnt tht big of a deal shut up- _

_ (9:53p) *Didn't you tell me that the first time you ever hunted you almost shot your brother in the foot on accident?* _

_ (9:54p) -i changed my mind u r a psychopath n imma have u locked up- _

_ (9:55p) *Ok, but remember that if you lock me up you'll never get to touch my boobs again.* _

_ (9:56p) -...- _

_ (9:56p) -ig u can stay out 4 now- _

*

When they arrive back at the house Rick and Glenn are there waiting and come to greet them. Daryl sees them do a quick sweep of the truck to see if Josie is with them, and disappointment lines their faces when they realize she’s not.

“What’d you find?” Rick asks. Beside him Glenn teeters back and forth on the balls of his feet anxiously.

“Is Jesse okay?” Carol asks flatly.

“Still doesn’t feel great, but his fever’s about the same. He was napping with Henry and The Captain when I checked on him a little bit ago,” Glenn says. Satisfied, Carol nods and then hops down from the bed of the truck. Without a word, she stalks off away from them and heads not to the house, but far out in the yard, and Daryl sees her plop down in the grass.

“Did something happen?” Rick asks. He frowns at where Carol went off to and then looks at Daryl expectantly. Daryl—feeling torn between going after her, checking on his son, and getting his friends up to speed so they can jump into action as soon as possible—blows out a breath and rubs his temples to try and stem the headache threatening to bloom. God, when was the last time he slept?

“A lot happened,” he mutters. He lets his arms drop like weights and presses his back against the truck. The license plate is bent and digs into his tailbone but he ignores it, suddenly too exhausted to keep himself upright on his own.

“Josie’s not...I mean, whatever happened she’s still...It’s not like Beth, right?” Glenn asks, not able to say the actual words. Daryl scoffs.

“Trust me,” he says. “If it was you’d know. But it ain’t. And it ain’t gonna be.” Revitalized by the thought of the ticking clock they’re working against, Daryl forces himself out of his slumped position and stands tall.

“Then what did you guys find?” Rick asks again.

“Jesus, Aaron,” Daryl says to the other two men once they’ve walked over and joined them. “Can you fill ‘em in? I need to go talk to Carol.”

“What are you even gonna say to her?” Aaron asks. His face is white as a sheet, and Daryl doesn’t need to be psychic to know that seeing someone get shot in the head isn’t sitting well with him. Frankly, Daryl would be more concerned if it did.

“Figure it out when I get there,” Daryl mumbles. At Glenn and Rick’s confused expressions he adds, “Ask them, they’ll tell you about it,” before shouldering past them.

He makes his way across the expanse of grass that surrounds the house and bleeds onto the property further down the way, tapering off into the thick of the trees beyond. Already the blades are long, a few pushing under his pant legs and brushing his ankles, making them itch. There’s a warm breeze as the sun gets lower in the sky, and a couple birds call to each other in the distance. It’d be a nice evening if Josie was home. If Merle wasn’t dead. If Daryl hadn’t dug a grave for a young girl that morning. If his wife and mother of his children hadn’t just killed a man. 

Carol is sitting cross-legged and leaning back on her hands, staring out at nothing. Her knife is lying beside her; she’d left the gun in the truck. Daryl goes and lowers himself to the ground beside her. She doesn’t look at him but he sees a muscle in her jaw tense when he scoots closer. He doesn’t try touching her, certain she’d recoil, but he does get inside her bubble—just the very edge of it—to let her know he’s there and doesn’t intend on going anywhere until they’ve figured this out. She’s not allowed to disappear on him. Not now.

“He would have died anyway,” Daryl says once their silence has dragged on a good while. She doesn’t react. “Honestly, ‘tween infection and walkers you pro’ly gave him a more merciful death than he woulda got otherwise.” 

“I didn’t want to grant him mercy,” Carol says then, turning her head sharply to look at him, her eyes wide and bright. “The only thing I wanted in that moment was for him to be dead.”

Daryl doesn’t know how to reply to that. The hate he feels for Aga and Clyde is unfathomably deep, but if he had been the one with the gun drawn would he have pulled the trigger? He honestly can’t say. Needing to do something with his hands, and not able to touch her, he pulls a bunch of long weeds out of the dirt and plucks off all the leaves. He tears the weeds into strips and begins weaving them together in a pattern he can’t remember ever not knowing. Carol watches his deft fingers move while more time ticks by.

“If you’re waiting for me to bare my soul to you it might be a while, because I don’t know what you want me to say,” she says eventually. Daryl peeks up at her briefly and then turns back to his project.

“I just wanna know what’s on your mind. No bullshit or sugar coatin’. Shit went down back there and I need to know where your head’s at.”

“Because you need to know if I’m losing it?” Carol’s tone is sour, but Daryl shakes his head without looking up.

“No,” he says honestly. “I need to know ‘cause I love you.”

With a tremendous sigh Carol lies down flat on her back and folds her hands on her belly. Daryl watches her watch the sky in his periphery and continues to wait patiently.

“I’m not feeling guilty from regret,” she says quietly. “I’m feeling guilty because I don’t  _ have _ regret. I don’t regret it, Daryl. I told you before that I wanted them dead for what they did to our daughter, and I meant it. But…” 

“But what?” Daryl probes gently.

“But what if you think I’m a monster now? What if from now on when you look at me all you see is what I’ve done? What I’d do again if given the same choice?” 

Daryl pauses his project and taps her chin to get her to turn her head and meet his eye.

“I’d never see you as a monster, baby, ‘cause you ain’t one,” he tells her softly. “You might've killed that piece of shit, but you ain’t a murderer.” 

“That’s literally the definition of a murderer, Daryl.” 

“If someone kills in self-defense you don’t call ‘em a murderer.”

“But it wasn’t self-defense. It was vengeance, plain and simple.” 

Daryl twists his mouth, resuming the weaving of the strands of grass in his hands and thinking on how to phrase his thoughts in a way she’ll understand.

“We don’t got the law anymore,” he says finally. “Each of us is playin’ the roles of judge, jury, and executioner, and that’s playin’ with fire, I know, but we don’t got any other choice. You weren’t a murderer when you pulled that trigger. You were an executioner, punishin’ him for his crimes. Was it the right thing to do? Fuck, Carol, I dunno. If there was a God watchin’ somewhere I don’t think he’d damn you for it, for whatever that’s worth. But I ain’t gonna waste my time debatin’ the morality of what’s already over and done with. All I know is that the woman I married is a good person. The  _ best _ person. And so if I’m worried about anythin’, it’s not about right and wrong. It’s about what it might’ve done to you. ‘Cause bad people can get their hands dirty and then just wash it right off. But you’re a good person, and on good people shit like that stains.” 

“Maybe I am and maybe it does, but if I had to soil a part of myself to protect my child? To avenge her? Then it was worth it.”

“Okay,” Daryl says. “Just be careful not to sacrifice so much of who you are that there’s nothin’ left.” 

“I can’t make that promise, and neither can you. Sacrifice is guided by love and loyalty, not logic. I’d burn myself to ash for them, and so would you.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, because she’s right. “But we ain’t ashes, though. Let’s do our best to keep it that way. That’s all I ask, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Satisfied, Daryl holds his hand out, and Carol takes it after a beat. He pulls her into a sitting position and right into his arms, holding her close. The two of them sit like that for a long time, rocking almost imperceptibly. Daryl then unfurls himself from her gently and takes hold of her left forearm.

Wordlessly, Carol watches with a small smile as he ties the bracelet he weaved around her wrist. Once it’s knotted and secure he kisses her knuckles, his lips brushing against the diamond and sapphire stones of her wedding ring. 

“The kids have them coins to remind ‘em how strong and brave they are,” he says quietly. “I’m fresh outta coins, but you wear that and whenever you look at it maybe it can remind you that I trust you with not just my life, but the lives of our kids, and that, no matter what, you ain’t gonna become a monster, ‘cause you’re too damn good to be one.” He meets her eye and adds, “And too damn pretty.” 

“You’ve never seen a monster you thought was pretty?” Carol asks, her teasing tone a glass of cool water in a hot desert. 

“I guess Godzilla’s kinda got it goin’ on, but he don’t got nothin’ on you,” Daryl says, heart lightening at the sound of her laugh. He kisses her on the lips for a long moment.

“You alright?” he asks softly when they part.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Good. Then let’s go meet up with the others and come up with a game plan. Our baby’s still out there and we’re gonna find her. No doubt about it.”

“And if we find the woman who took her?” Carol looks at him expectantly. Daryl chews his lip and then nods at the unasked question.

“We do what we think is best,” he says. “We’re the ones who make the rules now.” 

*

“I think part of our focus should be on finding a better homebase,” Rick says. 

Rick, Glenn, Carol, and Daryl are sitting on the front steps, with Michonne at their feet cleaning her katana. Up ahead by the vehicles Jesus is teaching Ryan some kung fu moves while Aaron holds Jesse on his lap. (Jesse had wanted to learn too, but Carol and Daryl told him he was too sick and had to keep up his strength. The compromise was that he was allowed to watch.) Maggie is inside trying to help her dad dry out, and the last time he saw her, Rachel was needlessly cleaning things just to keep busy.

“I think our  _ whole _ focus should be on finding this Alpha chick and gettin’ my daughter back,” Daryl snaps. At his sharp tone, Henry, who is lying on the porch next to him and resting his chin on the edge of the top steps, lifts his head up to look at him, the tags on his collar jangling. Daryl sighs and gives him an apologetic scratch behind the ear, and, satisfied, the dog lays his head back down. 

“They can be part of the same goal,” Rick argues. “By the sound of it this Alpha and her little cult or whatever is heading farther away from us. And the farther they get the more dangerous it becomes for us to keep going back and forth when we’re searching. Wouldn’t it make sense to find somewhere closer along the trail?”

“Are we just gonna keep hopping places every time they change direction, though?” Glenn asks. “That sounds even more dangerous.”

“If we focus up on getting Jojo back we don’t gotta keep followin’ any trail ‘cause the search’ll be over,” Daryl says, exasperated.

“The search has already gone on longer than we expected it to,” says Rick.

“Oh, and that’s  _ my _ fault? You think I ain’t bustin’ my ass every damn minute to find her?” Daryl snaps back.

“He didn’t mean it like that, Daryl,” Michonne says patiently, and Carol puts a hand on his knee to get him to calm down, which he does reluctantly with a huff.

“What’s wrong with this place?” he asks in a more even tone. “We’re just now finally gettin’ settled in. Hell, you’re the one who picked it.”

“I did. But it was because we had two people who needed medical attention and we needed a place to sleep before dark. I never intended us to stay forever. It’s too out in the open. Look how easily Jesus and Aaron found it, just on accident. This place is off the beaten track, sure, but with the main roads all blocked I think people are gonna be going off the beaten track more and more. It’s only a matter of time before something finds us, walker or otherwise.” 

“We could fortify,” Carol suggests quietly.

“It’s too out in the open,” Rick says. “We can’t fence it off in any way that’s truly safe. We need stronger walls. Something with real defenses that could stand a chance if shit started to go down. I don’t want to have what happened at the farm happen again.” 

“We also gotta think about supplies,” Glenn says. He glances at Daryl with a grimace when he does, like he’s waiting for Daryl to yell at him, too. When he doesn’t, he continues. “We’re running out of everything. I’m glad we have the people we do, don’t get me wrong, but eleven mouths are a lot to feed. We can go across the way and collect water from the creek, but food is going to be harder to come by. I don’t mind doing supply runs, but with where we’re at right now there’s nowhere for me to run  _ to _ .” 

“He’s right,” Rick says. He says it to everyone, but Daryl knows it’s meant for him. “Maybe we could even find something that’s already stocked with some supplies. A school, maybe?” 

“And Jesse is starting to worry me a little, you guys,” Michonne adds, tossing her rag aside and slipping her katana into its holder. “That cough he started having when he woke up sounds pretty deep in his chest.”

“There’s nothing we can do for a virus,” Carol says. “The best we can do is make him rest and wait it out.”

“And movin’ him around all over ain’t gonna make him feel any better, that’s for damn sure,” Daryl adds, feeling emboldened. 

“More than likely it’s just a chest cold,” Michonne says agreeably. “But what if it’s an infection? Or what if one of us gets hurt and the wound gets dirty? We have basic first aid stuff, and meds to keep a fever down, but nothing else. I’m not saying I think he’s on the brink of death, but wouldn’t we all have better peace of mind if we could find some antibiotics and maybe a place with more than just dollar store bandaids?”

“Yeah, those are all good things to think about, and we can do all that shit once Jojo is found.” 

“Okay, but say we do track her down. Clyde said that Alpha wanted Josie, right? And it sounds like she’s not afraid to kill. We only have so many weapons, Daryl, and maybe only half of us that can use them well. If someone comes after us, guns drawn, in this little shack of a house it won’t just be Josie at risk, it’ll be Jesse, and Ryan, and everyone else.” Rick looks at Daryl levelly with a stern expression Daryl suspects he uses when he’s trying to talk down a particularly unruly criminal, and Daryl doesn’t appreciate it one bit. “Listen, I want to find her just as much as you do, brother, and I—”

“No you don’t,” Daryl interrupts. Rick, taken aback, tries to protest, but Daryl barrels right through it. “Y’all love her, I know you do, and I’m real thankful that y’all came with us, but you don’t have no idea how this feels. That is my  _ baby _ out there, okay? And you don’t understand how scary that is. Like, y’all look at Hershel and think ‘poor guy,’ but I look at him and think, ‘fuck, how’s this dude still breathin’?’ It’s like someone reached into my chest and pulled my heart out with their bare hands, and you want me to think about fortifying walls and findin’ a school to squat in? Man, fuck that.” 

Heaving heavy, angry breaths, he looks at Carol for reinforcement, but she’s sitting there crying silently. Everyone else seems at a loss for words, and suddenly it’s all too overwhelming. He pops up from his place on the stairs and grabs his crossbow.

“Where are you going?” Carol asks so quietly he almost misses it.

“Gonna hunt.”

“It’s almost nightfall, Daryl,” Glenn says.

“Then I’ll just go skim along the trees and see if I can’t find a rabbit or somethin’. I’m sick of my son eatin’ crackers for supper.” He doesn’t give anyone time to point out that he just proved Glenn’s point about supplies. He hurries down the stairs and whistles for Henry to follow, which he does happily.

Daryl walks the long expanse of their house’s property and onto the next one. Michonne and Rick had searched the other cabin for supplies the first day they arrived, and said that the people who had lived there had packed so hurriedly the place looked ransacked. They’d found a few things of use, but for the most part they’d left it alone. Daryl has barely thought about it, but now as he walks past it he thinks about the past residents. Rick had said they were a middle aged couple. Daryl wonders if they had children who had grown up and were off at college somewhere. Are they going out of their minds with worry trying to get to them? Or had they gone with their neighbors to Atlanta and gotten caught in the swarm, dying before ever finding out if their children were okay? 

Daryl kicks a rock at the cabin with a grunt and stalks off faster, Henry at his heel.

He gets to the treeline and crouches down to listen, waiting for the sounds of paws scritch-scratching on dead leaves, or nails clattering over branches. Something, he thinks, please let him just find  _ something _ . His daughter has been waiting for him to find her for the better part of a week, his son is sick with a fever, and Daryl is feeling like one big piece of shit dad right about now. If he hears Jesse’s stomach rumble and he’s not able to do anything about it he thinks he might officially lose it. So even as dusk begins to settle in and the horizon gets dim he pushes into the woods farther, hoping that just one goddamn squirrel crosses path. 

But the woods are silent. Even the cicadas seem muted with autumn closing in on them fast. Daryl’s gunshot wound burns every second he stays in a squat, but he’s too damn stubborn to give up.

He’s starting to think he’ll be in the position all night, when Henry lets out a yelp and several alarm barks. Daryl pops up at once and hurries over to where Henry is standing with his tail sticking out straight as a board and his hackles raised high. He’s growling at something on the ground, and Daryl creeps slowly through the dirt and twigs, using his crossbow to push debris away instead of his hand. That’s when he happens upon the rattlesnake.

It’s curled in the shape of an S, its rattles audible only now as he’s close enough to hear them over the sound of Henry. Before it can strike him, Daryl sends a bolt right through its head and it slumps out of its tight attack pose like a slack piece of rope. Daryl picks up a stick and nudges it to make sure it’s really dead before tossing the branch aside and turning his attention on Henry.

“Shh shh, boy, it’s okay,” Daryl says, his gentle tone contrary to the manic way his hands are running over the dog’s fur. He checks every inch of him—from his nose to his tail to in between each and every toe—three times over, searching for puncture marks, but sees none. Dropping his guard some, Henry relaxes and watches Daryl with curiosity as he looks him over. When Daryl looks at his face the dog lets his tongue loll out and stares back with a dopey grin. Daryl sighs with relief.

“I don’t think she gotcha,” Daryl says. He ruffles Henry’s fur and bumps his forehead with his, mumbling, “Dumb mutt,” under his breath.

Once he gets his stomach out of his ass and his heart out of his throat, Daryl sits down on the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, ignoring the twigs and stones and leaves digging into him and messing up his already muddy jeans. He pats his lap and Henry instantly drops down and puts his chin on Daryl’s knees, his tail thwapping hard against the forest ground.

“You’ve been missin’ your Jojo, huh?” Daryl asks his dog quietly. At Josie’s name, Henry lets out a small whine that makes Daryl want to cry. “Me too, boy. Tell you what, though? She’s gonna be a lot more excited to see you then she’ll be at seein’ me.” He huffs a breath and makes Henry move so that he can stand up. Every bone in his body suddenly depleted of energy, he’s ready to head back.

He goes and retrieves his bolt from the snake and then pauses. He stares at the scaly, fat lump and has a debate in his head. Sure, he’s eaten snake before—his father’s number one rule growing up had been not to waste food if you got it—but the looks he’ll get if he brings a snake home to put over the fire...

But then he thinks about Jesse holding a plate of crackers and not complaining one bit even though he hasn’t had a real meal since the CDC. 

That’s enough to make his decision for him. He grabs at his belt that he’s been using as a holster and pulls out the knife Merle gave him. He gets on the ground and cuts the head off of the rattlesnake, its venomous teeth going with it. Then he scoops it up, its muscled body heavier than it looks, and drapes it over his shoulders. 

“Hey Henry." The dog looks up at the sound of his name and leans into Daryl’s touch when he gives him ear scratches. “Thank you,” Daryl says quietly. “You’re always helpin’ me take care of ‘em. I thought you was lucky you found someone to take pity on your scrawny lil’ stray ass, but turns out I was the one who lucked out, huh?” 

Henry nips at Daryl’s hand lovingly and his dumb grin gets bigger. Daryl snorts and starts on the way back to the house. He doesn’t need to whistle. Henry, like from the very beginning, is behind him every step.

*

_ Daryl has just finished replacing a radiator and is wiping his hands off on a rag when his phone starts ringing. He tosses the rag on a tool table and digs his phone out of his pocket, groaning to himself when he sees it’s the number to the twins’ preschool. Again. He accepts the call reluctantly. _

_ “Hello?” he says flatly. _

_ “Is this Mr. Dixon,” says the familiar voice of the school’s guidance counselor.  _

_ “Yeah,” Daryl says, refraining from adding, “You already know it is.” _

_ “I’m calling because your child called another child a ‘punk ass bitch’ and shoved him down this afternoon.” _

_ Daryl pinches the bridge of his nose.  _

_ “Did she say why she did that?” he asks.  _

_ “Oh, I’m not talking about Josie. It was Jesse,” says the guidance counselor, giving Daryl genuine pause. He’s speechless until she says, “Mr. Dixon, did you hear me?” _

_ “Uh. Yeah, I heard you. You’re sure it was  _ Jesse _ who did that? He’s the boy, remember? Josie’s the one with the long hair and resting bitch face? Ring a bell?” _

_ “I can’t imagine where your children learn it all,” the guidance counselor says. _

_ “From Mrs. Dixon,” Daryl deadpans.  _

_ “I’m sure.” _

_ “You’re like, certain it was JJ that did all that to another kid?” _

_ “I agree that it’s out of character, but there were several witnesses to the incident.” _

_ “Did he give a reason at least?”  _

_ “No, he refused to say and also wouldn’t apologize to the other student.” _

_ “‘Kay, well, do I need to get him early or somethin’? School’s out in an hour anyways.” _

_ “You can pick him up at the normal time, but he’s not allowed to go to recess for the rest of the week. We have a zero tolerance bullying policy that we take very seriously, Mr. Dixon.” _

_ “Yeah, we both know JJ is such a big bully,” Daryl mutters. _

_ “Pardon?” _

_ “I said I’ll talk to him about it and make sure he apologizes.” _

_ “Alright. Until next time, then, which, knowing your children, will probably be next week.”  _

_ “Look, I still think y’all overreacted last time. JJ wasn’t tryna scare no one.” _

_ “He found a mouse on the playground and then let it go in the middle of story time.” _

_ “No he didn’t. It just wriggled out of his pocket. It was an honest mistake.”  _

_ “ _ Goodbye _ , Mr. Dixon.” _

_ The line goes dead with a click and Daryl sighs, pulling up his messages and sending a text to Carol. _

_ (1:59p) -skool called- _

_ (2:02p) *Gdi, did Jesse interrupt counting time by asking if boy cockroaches have penises again?* _

_ (2:03p) -nah not this time- _

_ (2:03p) -our kid called sum other kid a punk ass bitch n then pushed em down- _

_ (2:04p) *Why did she do that?* _

_ (2:05p) -nope- _

_ (2:05p) -other kid- _

_ (2:06p) *What?* _

_ (2:07p) -it wasnt jojo it was jj- _

_ (2:08p) *????* _

_ (2:08p) *Are you sure they didn’t mix them up? Did you remind them which one’s which?* _

_ (2:09p) -yup she said it was 4 sure jj- _

_ (2:09p) -said he wudnt say y he did it n also wudnt say sry- _

_ (2:10p) *Jesse apologized to the door yesterday bc he thought it would be sad that it got slammed too hard.* _

_ (2:11p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯- _

_ (2:12p) *That’s so weird?? Plz interrogate him when you pick them up from school and lmk what you find out asap.* _

_ (2:13p) -will do- _

_ (2:14p) *See you tonight, detective.* _

_ An hour later Daryl has both twins strapped in their car seats in the back and is en route home, unsettled by how quiet the van is. Usually Jesse would be through his seventeenth anecdote by now, but today he’s as silent as Josie. _

_ “You know we’re gonna hafta talk about what happened at school today, bud,” Daryl says, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Jesse averts his eyes. “You wanna tell me why you were mean to that other kid?”  _

_ “No,” Jesse says. _

_ “Okay, well maybe ‘want' is the wrong word. I need you to tell me why you were mean to that other kid.” _

_ “No,” Jesse says, surprising Daryl. His son is never this defiant.  _

_ “We’re gonna hafta sit down and figure this out when we get home, you got me?” he says. Jesse says nothing. At a stop light Daryl turns to look at him, but he’s staring out the window. Daryl exchanges a glance with Josie, who simply shrugs.  _

_ Back at home Daryl follows the kids to their room and watches them put their backpacks away, and then tells Josie to go play with Henry while he talks to her brother.  _

_ Daryl takes a seat on Jesse’s bed and pats the mattress to motion Jesse to join him. Jesse hesitates a moment, checking the door as if making sure Josie is really gone, before coming over and sitting next to his dad. Daryl opens his mouth to ask Jesse again about what happened, but the little boy is already talking.  _

_ “During free playtime Jason was saying mean things about Joey, like that she is weird and mean, and I told him to stop and that actually he was the mean person not Joey but he just said more mean things and so that’s why I called him a bad word and pushed him down, are you mad at me?”  _

_ Daryl takes a second to process all that.  _

_ “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” _

_ “‘Cause Joey was there when they asked just like she was there when you asked and I thought it would maybe make her sad if she hearded that Jason called her names and I don’t want Joey to be sad.”  _

_ “Oh kid, you could melt a heart as cold as Antarctica, you know that?” Daryl says, mostly to himself, shaking his head at Jesse. “No, I ain’t mad at you. But you can’t go around hittin’ and callin’ kids punk ass bitches. Where did you even hear—oh, it was Uncle Glenn, huh?”  _

_ “He said it when he was playing video games and then said I can only ever say it to really bad guys and Jason is a really bad guy for being mean to sissy so that’s why I told him he’s a punk ass bitch.”  _

_ Daryl tries and fails to hold in a laugh.  _

_ “Okay. So here’s what I think we should do. I think maybe no dessert for you tonight, just ‘cause me and your momma don’t want you thinkin’ that hittin’ is okay, but I won’t make you apologize to some punk ass bitch. If them teachers get on your case about it, tell ‘em to call me and I’ll set ‘em straight. That sound fair?” _

_ “I guess,” Jesse says with a sigh, clearly lamenting the loss of his dessert. “What if he says mean things again, though?” _

_ “Then I want you to tell your teacher. Supposedly they have some stellar anti-bullying policy or somethin’, so she should listen. But if she don’t?” Daryl shrugs. “Then you can call him a punk ass bitch. Just no hittin’, okay?”  _

_ “Okay,” Jesse says agreeably. _

_ “Good.”  _

_ He kisses Jesse on the top of his head and the two of them get up and head towards the living room, but when they walk into the hallway they see Josie standing there.  _

_ “Did you hear me and daddy talking?” Jesse asks his sister, sounding panicked. Josie frowns and shakes her head. _

_ “No,” she says. She walks around them, clapping for Henry to follow as she goes to read in her room, seemingly oblivious to what just went down. _

_ But that night at supper, when they think he and Carol aren’t looking, Daryl watches Josie slip half her chocolate cupcake to Jesse under the table. Daryl takes a drink of water to hide his smile, knowing that Josie willingly giving away her chocolate is the biggest thank you she could ever give. _

*

Daryl has finally fallen into a restless sleep on the living room couch, having not even realized just how much he was running on fumes until the moment he closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly despite all the thoughts running through his head. His dreams are bad, but are the type that have no plot or threads to follow, leaving him with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but not really knowing why.

The house is quiet. He hadn’t caught that much grief for bringing back a snake for supper, although he definitely ate more than anyone else did, but he’d managed to get Jesse to eat a few bites and that was what mattered. (Glenn did keep referring to the rattlesnake as a “rattlesnack,” which was regrettable, but worth it in the end.) Having a little meat in their bellies seems to be doing everyone well. Hershel's snores from his deep, alcohol-induced sleep create a strange sort of background cadence while everyone but the person on watch finally rests. 

Which makes it even more alarming when a gunshot snaps Daryl out of his vague nightmares. From outside he hears Carol calling his name. 

Awake instantly, Daryl is off the couch with his crossbow in hand in record time. From around him he hears other people jumping into action, too, but he doesn’t wait for backup. He throws the front door open and his blood goes cold when he sees Carol trying to fight off a small horde of walkers all by herself with a shotgun and a knife. Daryl arms his bow and shoots the one closest to her, and then unsheathes his own knife and runs down to join the fight. 

Cold, rubbery fingers grab him by the forearm and he spins just in time to see rotten teeth coming for him. Letting adrenaline dictate his actions, he drives his blade into the walker’s cheek, and then kicks it backwards with his heavy boot. It stumbles but keeps coming, and Daryl gets into a better position and this time the blade meets the resistance of skull and then the soft, fleshy give of brain. 

“You hurt?” Daryl calls over his shoulder before running up and taking down the next walker.

“No, but I shouldn’t have fired that shot,” Carol yells back, letting a walker drop in front of her and getting herself in position to get the next one. “But I couldn’t get my knife through.”

“It’s okay.”

“It might draw in even more.”

“We'll worry about that later, just focus.” Beside him a walker’s head gets sliced in two and that’s when he realizes that Michonne and Rick have made it out, and the others are quick to follow. 

There might be a lot of mouths to feed in the house, but Daryl is grateful for all of them now as the odds fall back into his favor with everyone taking on walkers at once. It only takes a few minutes to get all of them, leaving the front yard looking like a slaughterhouse with corpses lying in the too-long grass, their smell making the snake in Daryl’s stomach threaten to come back up. He bends forward and rests his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

“What was that you said about it only being a matter of time, Rick?” Glenn asks, wiping sweat off his forehead with the side of his arm. 

“I think I said it was only a matter of time,” Rick deadpans. His eyes seek out Daryl.

“Dude, don’t start on me right this second. Can we deal with the crisis in front of us first?” Daryl says, the headache threatening to bloom earlier engulfing him fully now as he longs for just another twenty minutes of sleep. 

“This  _ is _ the crisis in front of us, brother,” Rick says, holding his arms out at his sides in exasperation. “Who knows if there are more coming? We can’t stay here.”

“We also can’t go nowhere in the middle of the goddamn night neither,” Daryl snaps. “If you got the perfect shelter for us there in your back pocket I’d love to see it, otherwise we gotta figure out how to keep this place safe at least ‘til daylight comes.” 

Everyone is so caught up in the argument that they all startle when Carol screams. They all spin to face her and find her a short distance from the rest of them, being pinned to the ground by a walker that must have rounded the corner of the house without any of them noticing. Out of reach is Carol’s knife stuck in the head of a dead walker she must have been trying to retrieve it from. She’s doing her best to push the walker on top of her away, but it’s a heavy one and Daryl can tell her arms are giving out. 

Rick draws his gun, but Daryl shouts at him, “No! You might shoot her, they’re movin’ too much.” 

In a panic, Daryl takes out his knife and runs towards his wife, but he’s beaten to the punch by Henry who, at the speed of light, bolts from the front porch and knocks the walker right off of Carol by pure inertia. Suddenly free, Carol rolls on her side and gropes around for her knife, getting a hold of it and yanking it out with a hard tug, and then rolls over to where Henry is snarling at the walker. She puts it down right as Daryl reaches her. He slides to his knees and cups her face with his bloody hands.

“Did it get you?” he asks frantically. 

“No, but Daryl, look at Henry,” Carol says, shoving him away and crawling over to where Henry is panting, his breath coming out in high-pitched whines. He tries to stand and then yelps, collapsing onto the ground. Carol puts trembling hands on him and pats around his fur before taking a sharp intake of breath. “Daryl, do something, he’s hurt, Henry’s hurt.”

“No!” Daryl and Carol both turn to see Jesse running down the front steps.

“Sweet potato, go back inside,” Carol says, but it falls on deaf ears. Jesse doesn’t even seem to notice he’s running on bare feet through a field full of walker blood. He drops down beside his mother and clings to her side.

“Henry can’t be hurt, you gotta fix him,” he tells her urgently. 

“Baby, I don’t know if—”

“Get Mr. Hershel. Mr. Hershel is a vetter aquarium, remember? He’s fixed Henry before.” Again the absence of his sister hotly correcting his pronunciation rings loud in the silence that follows. Carol looks at Daryl for help. Swallowing, Daryl leans over and checks out Henry’s wound. A big part of his abdomen is torn to shreds, and Daryl doesn’t think the best veterinarian in the world could stitch him up before it was too late. He gives Carol a subtle shake of the head and she lets out a muted sob before reining it in for Jesse’s sake. 

“He’s too hurt, honey, there’s nothing we can do,” she tells him softly.

“No, you’re wrong!” Jesse says, thick tears spilling over his chubby cheeks. “I told Henry I would keep him safe for Joey. He has to be okay because Joey needs to see him when she gets home so you have to fix him right now.” 

“I can’t,” Carol whispers. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

“Daddy?” Jesse says, turning to him for his miracle, his feverish body mixed with his tears making his eyes as bright and glossy as the moon above. 

“Baby boy, I don’t…” he trails off, his voice catching in his throat, and Jesse slaps his hands hard on his own lap.

“No no  _ no _ !” he yells. “He has to be here when Joey comes home or she’ll be so sad.” 

“Here, c’mere, let’s make Henry know we’re right here with him, okay?” Carol says. “Let’s make sure she knows his family is here.” 

“But it’s not though,” Jesse sobs. “Joey isn’t here. Momma, Henry can’t die if Joey isn’t here.”

Carol closes her eyes tight, a few tears slipping out, before she clears her throat and reaches out to scratch Henry behind the ear. In response, and with tremendous effort, Henry readjusts himself in the grass and rests his chin on his first favorite girl’s lap. That does it for Carol and she bursts into tears, leaning forward to pepper Henry’s forehead with wet kisses. Even as he whines in pain, Henry licks Carol’s cheek. 

“Daryl?” Carol says, motioning him to come closer. His own eyes burning and his trembling lip pulled between his teeth, Daryl sits thigh-to-thigh next to Carol and pets Henry’s back in long strokes. The dog looks up at him with the same expression he had when Daryl found him wandering the streets half-starved to death—an expression of love and loyalty strong enough for him to make this sacrifice to protect Carol.

“Always helpin’ me take care of ‘em,” Daryl mutters. “Good boy, Henry. You been such a good boy.” 

Henry lets out a sigh, like he was waiting for Daryl to say that, and then gets himself comfortable on Carol’s lap, closing his eyes, his breathing labored.

“Joey needs to be able to say goodbye,” Jesse says, leaning his head on Carol’s shoulder and weeping. “She’d want to tell him she loves him.”

“Why don’t you tell him for her?” Daryl says, rubbing his son’s back. 

Jesse pats Henry’s nose, and through his tears he says, “Momma and daddy and me love you a whole lot, Henry, but Joey loves you the most. She loves you more than she loves the stars and she really loves the stars. I’m sorry she’s not here. I’m sorry she’s—” It’s too much and Jesse breaks down, sobbing harder than Daryl’s ever seen him sob. 

“You know what we’re gonna do, sweet potato?” Carol whispers to Jesse. “You remember Henry’s favorite song?” Jesse nods. “Will you help me sing it to him? It’ll be like a bedtime song. Can you help me sing the puppy to sleep?” 

“Okay,” Jesse says, voice thick and wet. 

“ _ Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies, _ ” Carol sings in a small whisper. “ _ Oh no no no, you can’t disguise. _ ” After a few lines Jesse joins her, singing in an even smaller voice. 

Daryl sits there, unable to sing. He keeps his hand on Henry and listens as his wife and son sing him to eternal sleep.

*

_ Daryl goes out onto the back patio and finds Josie sitting there without an adult—like she does frequently even after being told not to a thousand times—with Henry curled at her feet. She has her arms wrapped around her legs and seems to be thinking hard about something. Daryl settles in beside her and mirrors her pose. _

_ “What’s on your mind, baby girl?” he asks. She doesn’t answer right away, but Daryl knows that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s not going to answer, and so he waits patiently. _

_ “Today at school,” she says several minutes later, like Daryl suspected she would. “Meredith was sad today and said that she had to take her cat to the vet to be put to sleep, and the teacher said she was very sorry, but why was she sorry if all her cat is doing is sleeping?”  _

_ “Mm,” Daryl says. “Well, putting an animal to sleep is just a nice way of saying that the animal died. That’s why your teacher said that and why Meredith was sad.” _

_ “What?” Josie says, looking at Daryl alarmed. “Why would a vet do that?” _

_ “They only do it if the animal is really old or really sick and it hurts too much for them to still be alive.” _

_ “Are you gonna take Henry to the vet to be put to sleep?” Her hand tightens around Henry’s collar and Daryl smiles kindly at her. _

_ “Not any time soon, baby. Henry is still healthy.” _

_ “But will you someday?”  _

_ Daryl twists his mouth, debating on how honest he wants to be. If it was Jesse’s pet he’d probably play the “he ran away” excuse, but Josie is different. _

_ “Maybe,” he says. “If he ever gets too old or sick.”  _

_ Josie looks nervous, like she never considered the possibility that Henry might not be there forever.  _

_ “How long do dogs live?”  _

_ “Well, baby, unfortunately not all that long, ‘least compared to people. But that’s okay. That’s why we spoil ‘em a whole bunch. To make sure all their time on Earth is as happy as possible.” _

_ “Will Henry die before me?” _

_ Daryl sighs and wraps an arm around his daughter, more for his own comfort than for hers. _

_ “Yeah, sweetheart, Henry is gonna die before you.” Josie is quiet for a long time, and when Daryl glances at her face he’s surprised to see there are tears in her eyes. Josie  _ never _ cries. “Hey hey hey,” he says, ducking down so they’re level. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” _

_ “I’m not,” she says, wiping her eyes angrily like she’s aghast that they’d have the audacity to fall.  _

_ “It’s okay to cry, baby girl. Always, alright? Don’t ever be ashamed for cryin’. But also there’s nothin’ to worry about right now, ‘cause Henry is right here kickin’. And hopefully, when he does go, it’ll be when he’s real old and after he’s had a real long life bein’ spoiled rotten. And hopefully we’ll all be there to say goodbye to him, so he’ll know just how much he’s loved before he goes. Especially how much his Jojo loves him.”  _

_ “‘Kay,” Josie mutters, scrubbing at her eyes again, but not looking any happier. _

_ “Hey, Henry,” Daryl whispers conspiratorially. The dog lifts his head up, his tags jangling. “I think Jojo needs some love. Can you give her kisses?” He holds Josie’s shoulders and says, “C’mon boy, get her!” _

_ Henry wastes no time leaping up and covering Josie with wet kisses, making her squeal and laugh like nothing else in the world ever does.  _

_ One day they’ll have to say goodbye to the best dog they’ll ever have. _

_ But that day is not today.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry.
> 
> in memoriam:  
-i'm sorry
> 
> i'm sorry,  
-diz


	15. Oxygen Mask

_ (5:07p) >Officially done with classes and training, thank Christ.< _

_ (5:09p) ~yooo! congratulations, officer grimes.~ _

_ (5:10p) >Officer Grimes. I love it.< _

_ (5:10p) >Are you guys still able to make it Saturday.< _

_ (5:12p) ~of course. we wouldn't miss your graduation.~ _

_ (5:13p) -hi congrats n ya we'll b there- _

_ (5:13p) -even tho the whole place will prolly b full of cops huh?- _

_ (5:14p) ~it's a police academy, so yes, i am assuming there will be cops.- _

_ (5:15p) -gross- _

_ (5:16p) >Love you too, bud.< _

_ (5:17p) -lol ur not gross- _

_ (5:17p) -just like- _

_ (5:17p) -the rest of em- _

_ (5:18p) ~is this finally what tears team groupchat apart? rick is now a member of law enforcement and daryl can't handle it?~ _

_ (5:19p) -i can handle it- _

_ (5:20p) >At least I gave you plenty of time to get used to the idea. I've been on this career path since high school.< _

_ (5:21p) -ik ive been tryna psych myself up 4 it this whole time- _

_ (5:22p) >Rofl, asshole.< _

_ (5:23p) -fr tho congrats- _

_ (5:23p) -even tho merle will nvr let me live it down tht one of my best friends is a cop- _

_ (5:23p) -he h8s em even more thn i do- _

_ (5:24p) -there was so much illegal shit goin on @ home my whole childhood we was always taught nvr 2 call 911- _

_ (5:24p) -i 4got other ppl trust the police lmao- _

_ (5:25p) ~your upbringing continues to be kind of horrifying.~ _

_ (5:26p) -ya it wasnt gr8- _

_ (5:27p) >I promise to be a good cop.< _

_ (5:28p) -i promise 2 not do illegal shit arnd u- _

_ (5:29p) >Or at all, preferably.< _

_ (5:30p) ~there go all our serial killing plans, daryl.~ _

_ (5:31p) -damn- _

_ (5:31p) -but prob 4 the best- _

_ (5:31p) -cant take care of my bbies from prison- _

_ (5:32p) ~plus orange just isn't your color.~ _

_ (5:33p) >You guys are idiots.< _

_ (5:33p) >See you Saturday tho??< _

_ (5:34p) -ya- _

_ (5:34p) ~deffo.~ _

_ (5:35p) >grp prjct rick changed the group name to "Officer Grimes & Friends"< _

_ (5:35p) >See you then! :) < _

*

Jesse finally cries himself out and falls into a restless sleep a couple hours later, Carol curled up around him like she’s guarding him from the world. She’s dozing in and out, too, the worst of the blood hastily scrubbed off her skin with cold water, and the blood on her clothes dry and crusty. Daryl is sitting on the edge of the bed, near the top, and is watching his wife and son. His whole body screams for sleep, but his mind feels like a lightning storm. Even if he could justify it, he knows he’d never get any rest.

As it is, he knows he can’t stay in this room forever. No one has asked him to go help move bodies or keep watch, but he doesn’t intend to make everyone else do the heavy lifting. Especially now that he finally has Jesse calmed down.

Right on cue, Rick pokes his head in and seeks out Daryl. Wordlessly, he gestures with a nod for Daryl to follow him, and then ducks back out. Daryl sighs. He glances down at Jesse, who is breathing with his mouth open, his inhales and exhales wet and thick with congestion. Daryl reaches out to stroke his cheek when he notices a stray dog hair left on his son’s pillow. It’s a punch to the gut, and it gives him the boost he needs to leave the room, quickly, before he can dwell on it.

Daryl walks through the living room where Rachel is curled up with Ryan on the couch. The young boy is whimpering in his sleep, and Rachel gives Daryl a weak, sad smile when they exchange a glance. Daryl nods silently at her and then heads outside where Rick and Glenn are doing a double watch shift on the porch—they’re not risking leaving someone outside alone again.

Rick is in the middle of explaining how to work the gun Glenn has in his hands, who’s holding it with his fingers as far from the trigger as possible, as if he’s terrified that the thing will go off if he just thinks about it too long. When Daryl joins them, Rick stops his lecture mid-sentence and motions for him to sit with them on the stairs.

His two friends shift around to make room, but Daryl opts instead to climb down and stand at the bottom, feeling suddenly too restless to sit. For a full minute the three of them say nothing, the trio staring out at the yard where the massacre occurred hours prior. The bodies have been moved into a pile that’s set off to the side, except, Daryl realizes, for Henry. One of his friends has taken the time to dig a hole for the dog, right beside Beth’s grave, and Henry’s corpse lies limp beside it, waiting to be put to rest.

“Which of you did that for him?” he asks, embarrassed when his voice cracks. He gestures at the grave.

“Me,” Glenn says quietly. “Thought it might help Jesse if we did a proper burial. Or, well, as proper as they seem to get nowadays.”

“Thank you,” Daryl mutters. It’s insufficient to the amount of gratitude he feels, but as always, his friends understand what remains unspoken.

“Of course,” Glenn says. He rubs the nape of his neck with a sigh and adds, “Getting pretty sick of funerals, though, not gonna lie.”

“Tell me about it,” Daryl mutters.

“That’s why we need to find someplace safer.” Rick takes one look at Daryl’s face and barrels on before he has a chance to protest. “Listen, I know you don’t want to have this conversation, and God knows you’ve got enough other stuff on your mind, but this close call was  _ too _ close. Do you realize that if Henry hadn’t jumped in Carol could have died?”

Does he realize it? He’s only replayed the scene in his head about six billion times. Not to mention this is the second time he’s lost a loved one because he wasn’t fast enough to intervene. Rick has no way of fathoming how big a piece of shit he feels like, and of course he wants to do what’s best for his family, but he can’t help but think that every second they dedicate to finding a new homebase is a second Josie gets farther away.

“Man, do we have to do this now?” Daryl asks. He has no desire to argue. He’s exhausted, grieving, and terrified, and he doesn’t trust himself to keep a level head if the wrong buttons get pushed. But Rick is relentless.

“If we keep putting the conversation off because we’re tired then we’re not gonna talk about it until it’s too late. Our shit is compromised, Daryl. Bad timing or not, that remains objective fact. We are not safe here.”

“Where the hell do you propose we go, then?” Daryl asks, already getting annoyed. “What if we leave here in search of somethin’ better, but end up someplace even worse? At least here we have walls.”

“Walls that would provide us no real protection if we get swarmed. Walls that could easily come down if, God forbid, ill-intentioned people find us. We’re sitting on a ticking time bomb, and our contingency plan is crossing our fingers and hoping everything works out for the best. I’m telling you, it’s not enough.”

“This doesn’t mean we’re gonna stop looking for Josie, Daryl,” Glenn says gently. “But we’re no use to her if we’re dead.”

“You’re on his side, then?” Daryl snaps.

“I’m not on any ‘side’, dude. All I want is for people to stop getting hurt, and if this helps that happen then I think it’s worth talking about.”

Frustrated, Daryl takes several steps away from them and stands in the middle of the yard, trying to draw in fresh air to calm himself, but the smell of walker rot ruins it. He covers his face with his hands and tilts his head up at the sky, eyes closed. When Rick comes up behind him and touches his shoulder he jolts like he’s been electrocuted. He spins around and swats Rick’s arm away.

“Don’t,” he says sharply. Rick raises his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry.”

“I can’t handle this right now,” Daryl says. He doesn’t think Rick and Glenn realize it’s not a confession, but a warning. He hasn’t slept, his son is sick, his wife almost died, his dog  _ did _ die, he hasn’t had a chance to grieve for his brother, and he hasn’t held his daughter for nearly a week. It’s all compounding, and he’s feeling ganged up on, and it’s dredging up emotions he hasn’t felt in years. He’s as powerless as he was whenever his father stood over him with a belt, and he is suddenly finding himself sliding into self-preservation mode.

“I promise you, I’m aware of the position we’re in, and how grave Josie’s situation is, but we need to consider all the angles here,” Rick says in a calculated tone, and Daryl sees red. 

“Man, fuck you, don’t do that. Don’t use your cop voice on me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re talkin’ to me like I’m some irrational civilian freakin’ out ‘cause someone stole my purse or some shit. Well guess what, Rick, they didn’t steal my purse, they stole my  _ kid _ , and if you think I ain’t gonna obsess like hell over that, then you better—”

“Daryl, I don’t expect anything like that. What I’m trying to do is be objective about our situation as a whole, because that’s not possible for you right now, which is  _ totally understandable _ , okay? I’m sure that if it was me I’d be feeling the same way. No one is blaming you.” 

“Why are you even havin’ this conversation with me if you’ve already made your mind up, huh? Clearly you’re in charge here. Do what you’re gonna do, but don’t fuckin’ patronize me.”

“I’m not claiming leadership, Daryl, but I can’t help it if people keep looking at me—at me  _ and _ you—like we’re supposed to have answers. I’m just doing my best to have some when they do.”

“There doesn’t need to be a hierarchy here, guys,” Glenn says. “We can come up with answers together as a group.”

“Except then we run the risk of going in circles as we sit around debating. What we need is to be able to make executive decisions when things start getting out of hand.”

“Not claiming leadership my ass,” Daryl mutters. “Just say you wanna run the show, Rick. Say that you think we should all do what Officer Grimes says.”

“What I  _ think _ ”—Rick takes a step too far into Daryl’s personal space, making him wince involuntarily—“is that if no one is willing to take charge, then we’re all going to be put at risk, and if we’re all busy fighting for our lives, then Josie is gonna die.” 

Already feeling like a cornered, feral animal, Daryl has no control over himself when the blind rage he feels causes him to bring a fist back and then swing it forward, socking Rick in the face with a loud crack.

“Daryl, stop,” Glenn says frantically, but Daryl is beyond reason. He goes to throw another punch, but Rick is faster. It’s suddenly street fighter versus trained cop, and Daryl is losing. Rick takes hold of Daryl’s wrists and pulls them behind his back so that his arms are stuck in an X across his chest. Daryl’s instinct to being held captive is abject terror, and he fights against the hold, thrashing around until the tip of Rick’s boot connects with the back of his knee, knocking him to the ground. Daryl falls onto his front, face in the grass, with Rick pinning him down. 

“Let me go, asshole,” Daryl spits, trying like hell to free his arms.

“Rick,” Glenn says nervously, but Rick doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans down close to Daryl’s ear and starts whispering in a soft, even tone.

“Brother,” he tells him. “It’s me. It’s just me. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d  _ never _ hurt you, but you have gotta calm yourself down, okay? I’m not trying to hold you prisoner. Just stop moving around and I’ll let you go.” 

Daryl doesn’t know if it’s Rick’s words, or if he simply defaults to learned behavior, but he lets his whole body go limp. As promised, the second he stops fighting, Rick lets go, but Daryl doesn’t flee right away. He realizes a second later it’s because he’s waiting for the catch. He’s waiting for the burn of the lash across his back.

When it doesn’t come, he scrambles to his feet and stands far away from Rick, watching him warily. He’s vaguely aware that his whole body is trembling.

“I won’t hit you again, just please don’t touch me like that anymore.” Daryl’s ashamed at how young and scared his voice sounds. Glenn, who is stiff as a board with anxiety, suddenly deflates and casts a sad glance at Rick, who sighs. Daryl knows then that they understand exactly where his mind has gone; exactly what memories he’s reliving.

“I’m sorry,” Rick says. “I’ve just never seen you lose it like that. I wasn’t sure how far you’d take it, and the last thing we needed was a fist fight.”

“Did I hurt you?” Daryl asks quietly, and damnit he can’t stop shaking. Dawn is just now arriving, and in the early morning light Daryl can make out the bruise already forming on Rick’s left cheek. Rick touches it and smiles even as he winces.

“You throw a good punch, I’ll give you that,” he jokes, but Daryl doesn’t even have a pity laugh in him. Rick drops his smile. “I really am sorry. I know you don’t...being pinned like that couldn’t have been good for you, considering. I didn’t think.” 

The scars on Daryl’s back burn.

“I hit you, not the other way around. ‘S’fine.”

“No it isn’t. None of it is. And I get that, brother, I do.”

Daryl teeters on the balls of his feet. He sucks in a big breath. He tries with his everything to maintain control. But then he sees Glenn’s worried face, and locks eyes with Rick, who is full of remorse, and in a strangled voice, he says, “I miss my daughter, you guys.”

And then he loses it.

Hanging his head and choking out sobs, Daryl feels Rick and Glenn approach him slowly. Part of him wants to shy away, but he’s too overcome with grief, and so he stays standing like a ragdoll as Rick’s arm snakes around his shoulder. From his other side Glenn does the same. Daryl’s two best friends spend the next few minutes reminding him that he doesn’t need to be afraid of their touch as they hug him while he cries.

“We’re gonna find her, Daryl,” Glenn promises in a whisper. 

“And we’ll keep each other safe in the meantime,” Rick adds. “That’s my only aim here—keeping us all safe. We’re family. That’s why we came with you, and that’s why we’re staying.” 

“We got each other’s bacterial meningitis, right?” says Glenn.

Daryl manages a wet laugh. Through his tears he whispers,

“Always.”

*

_ Daryl is woken up abruptly by a small person body slamming his abdomen. _

_ “Oof,” he says, blinking his eyes open and coming face-to-face with a beaming Jesse, whose hair is sticking up every which way.  _

_ “Morning, daddy,” Jesse says brightly. “It’s Saturday.”  _

_ “Don’t Saturday’s mean you’re s’posed to sleep in?” Daryl asks with a scratchy voice. _

_ “You did. You’ve been asleep  _ for-ehh-ver _ .” He slides off Daryl to crawl over and poke his mother awake. Daryl checks his phone. It’s 7:03am. _

_ “Mmph,” Carol mumbles, turning her head into her pillow. Jesse tries tugging her blankets off, but instead she ducks underneath them, making him giggle. Daryl smiles groggily, and then glances over at the bedroom door where Josie is watching the three of them, holding her teddy bear close to her chest.  _

_ “C’mon, might as well join the party, kid,” Daryl says. Obviously waiting for the invitation, Josie comes over, and Daryl helps her climb the side of the bed. Her hair isn’t much better off than her brother’s, the french braid Daryl meticulously did the morning prior completely wrecked. She pushes a few loose strands out of her face and sits cross-legged on the edge of the mattress, not piling on top of her parents like Jesse, but making sure she’s still close by. _

_ “Momma won’t get up, daddy,” Jesse complains, still tugging fruitlessly on the blankets. _

_ “She won’t, huh?” Daryl asks, grinning. “Lemme see what I can do about that.” He sits up and leans over to help Jesse pull the comforter off Carol’s head. Carol glares up at him. _

_ “Traitor,” she mumbles.  _

_ “Uh-oh, looks like momma’s grumpy. Best give her mornin’ kisses to make her feel better,” Daryl says, laughing at the scrunched up face Carol makes when Jesse begins bombarding her with wet cheek kisses.  _

_ “You should give her kisses, too,” Jesse says pragmatically to Daryl.  _

_ “Mm, pro’ly should,” Daryl agrees. Carol narrows her eyes at him, but lets him kiss her firmly on the lips anyway.  _

_ “Joey, do you wanna give momma morning kisses?” Jesse asks his sister. Daryl sees Josie shrug, as if to say, ‘Nah, I’m good.’ Carol and Daryl both snort.  _

_ “I dreamed about seahorses,” Jesse informs his parents. It’s part of their morning ritual that Jesse has to tell them every detail of his weird-as-fuck dreams. “They was like real horsies except they lived in the ocean, but real horsies don’t really live in the ocean ‘cause they can’t breathe in the water, but they could in my dream and I rode them to the store to get candy. My teacher says that daddy seahorses have babies instead of the mommas, did you know that?” _

_ “No kiddin’?” says Daryl. _

_ “For real?” says Carol. _

_ “Yeah. Do we have candy? I want candy now ‘cause there was candy in my dream and it made me think about how I like to eat it.” _

_ “No, but you can have breakfast,” Carol says. _

_ “Hm, but I think I would like to have candy,” Jesse argues. _

_ “How about scrambled eggs and toast?” Daryl says. _

_ “Can I have jelly on my toast?” _

_ “If you promise not to put it on your eggs again, because that was disgusting,” says Carol. Jesse hems and haws before nodding his assent.  _

_ “What about you, baby girl? What’re you thinkin’ about over there? You have any dreams you wanna tell us about?” Daryl asks Josie. Josie stares at him for a beat, and then asks, _

_ “Is me and Jesse’s grandpa being mean to you the reason you have ouchies on your back?”  _

_ A ringing silence follows. _

_ “What made you think about that, sugar?” Carol asks finally. “Because of Grandparent’s Day at school yesterday?” _

_ “I saw daddy’s ouchies,” she says, nodding at Daryl who is shirtless. “And you said that daddy’s daddy wasn’t a nice person who hurt people and you told us before that daddy’s ouchies was ‘cause he got hurt, so I thought that maybe daddy’s ouchies are ‘cause his daddy was mean to him.” _

_ Carol gives Daryl a sidelong glance, and Daryl huffs a small laugh. _

_ “Good mornin’ to you, too, baby girl,” he mutters.  _

_ “What?” Josie asks, furrowing her brow. Daryl waves a hand. _

_ “Nothin’. You’re right. My daddy did do that to my back.”  _

_ “Momma, you said that your daddy wasn’t very nice either. Did he hurt you like daddy’s did to him?” Jesse asks Carol.  _

_ “No, sweetheart, your daddy’s dad was a different kind of mean than mine was,” Carol says, pushing Jesse’s hair back behind his ear. _

_ “Why did he hurt you like that?” Josie asks. Daryl blows out a breath. _

_ “‘Cause when he thought I did something bad that’s how he would punish me,” he says with a shrug. _

_ “Why didn’t he just put you in timeout like you did when I called Jesse a dumbass for saying the sun isn’t a star? The sun is a star, though, I was right. I asked the lady who works at the library.” _

_ “Why’d you ask the librarian when me and your momma already told you that it was?”  _

_ “‘Cause sometimes you don’t know things,” Josie says simply. “But why not timeout?”  _

_ “I don’t know,” Daryl says honestly. “He just thought hitting was better.” _

_ “But it’s not cool to hit people,” Jesse says. _

_ “Yeah, well, he wasn’t a very cool guy.”  _

_ “You and momma don’t hit us when we’re bad,” Josie says thoughtfully. _

_ “No. We don’t. And we won’t ever. I promise,” Daryl says, feeling sick at the mere thought of raising a hand to his kids. Josie looks very contemplative for a moment. _

_ “I think I would be sad if you did that,” she says gravely, coming to a conclusion. “Did grandpa make you sad, daddy?”  _

_ Daryl chews on his lower lip for a moment. _

_ “Yeah,” he says finally. From beside him Carol squeezes his hand. _

_ “Why don’t we go have breakfast now?” she says to the twins. “And Jesse can tell us more about seahorses.”  _

_ Jesse looks conflicted, his eyes darting to his sister, who twists her mouth. Silently, she sets her teddy bear to the side and unfurls herself from her cross-legged position. She crawls over to Daryl and wraps her arms around him.  _

_ “Love you, daddy,” she says, so quietly Daryl almost misses it. Daryl’s heart nearly explodes. Josie only ever says that if she’s prompted, and sometimes not even then. He hugs her back so tightly she squeaks. _

_ “Love you, too,” he tells her, just as softly.  _

_ “Daddy, sit up,” Jesse instructs him then. Letting Josie go, Daryl pushes himself from the backboard and straightens up per instruction, but raises an eyebrow at his son, not sure what he’s planning. Without preamble, Jesse scoots over and plants a kiss on Daryl’s back. He says, “There, that will make the ouchies feel better.”  _

_ “A helluva lot better, kid,” Daryl agrees, rustling the fluff on top of his son’s head. “Thank you.” _

_ “I think they would maybe feel even more better if you had candy for breakfast.”  _

_ “Very, very good try,” Daryl says. He nudges both kids with his hands. “Go on now, go to the kitchen, we’ll be right behind you.”  _

_ The twins climb off the bed and head out of the room. Daryl turns to Carol and finds her already looking at him.  _

_ “You good?” she asks quietly. Daryl thinks about it before answering. _

_ “Yeah, actually. I am.”  _

_ “You know, the fact that it’s hard for them to grasp the concept of a father beating their child means you’re doing everything right.”  _

_ “I know. We both are. Well, maybe not everything. The two swear like sailors sometimes.”  _

_ “Okay, then we’re doing all the important stuff right. How’s that?” _

_ “Better,” Daryl says with a grin. He gives Carol a long kiss, before pulling back and adding, “Candy for breakfast does sound kinda good, though, now that I’m thinkin’ about it.” _

_ “No,” Carol says, flicking his arm. _

_ “But I have childhood trauma.” _

_ “Bitch, so do I, but I’m not gonna eat Snickers over it.”  _

_ “You one hundred percent have eaten Snickers to deal with your problems before.”  _

_ “Go feed your children,” Carol says flatly. Daryl laughs and gets out of bed. He snatches his t-shirt off the dresser and shrugs it on, covering the scars on his back that tell the story of his past, but not his present. It’ll always be part of his history, but every day he gets further from it. The kid brought up with hatred now has a future laced with love. _

*

Carol wipes down his bruised knuckles with a cool washcloth in silence. They’re sitting on the bedroom floor, a ways away from the bed so as to not disturb Jesse.

“Say somethin’,” Daryl whispers after the silence has dragged on too long. Carol peeks up at him and then looks back down at his hand in hers. She starts wiping away dirt and bits of dried blood on his forearm that he didn’t get completely washed off before.

“We gotta ask Rick not to tell Jesse you’re the one who gave him the black eye,” she whispers back. “It would upset him. It’s not cool to hit, remember?” She glances back up at him with a glint of humor in her eyes and he snorts.

“I remember,” Daryl says. “I didn’t mean to do it. I just totally blanked out for a second.”

“I’m not mad at you about it, Daryl. If you will recall, I recently shot a man in the head. I don’t think I can really judge you for punching someone.”

“I know. I hate that I did it, though. I hate how out of control I felt. I haven’t been like that in years and years. Not since Merle and me was kids and would beat on each other ‘cause we didn’t know how else to express our feelin’s. I always swore I wouldn’t be like my daddy, but the second I get pushed too far look what I do.” 

“There is a big difference between throwing a single punch because you felt cornered, and beating your children because you liked the power trip. How many times have the kids done something obnoxious when you were on your last nerve? How many times have you been dead exhausted and they’ve decided to misbehave and push your every last button? And out of all of those, how many times did you raise a hand to them?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Daryl mutters, unconvinced. Carol cups his face then and looks him dead in the eyes.

“You are one of the softest, kindest people I know. Don’t doubt yourself. There are so many things to be worried about. Don’t let this be one of them. I know Rick forgave you the second your fist left his cheek, so you need to forgive yourself now, alright?”

Swallowing, Daryl nods. Carol smiles and kisses the raw skin on his knuckles lightly. She then lets him go and sets the rag in her lap, folding her hands on top of it.

“So did you guys come to a conclusion?” she asks, suddenly all business. Daryl sighs, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger.

“Came to a sort of compromise,” he says. “Gonna go out with Rick and Glenn here in a couple hours and we’ll look for a place we might be able to fortify, but we’ll take the route from where we last knew Jojo was at, and we’ll take time to see if I can’t track somethin’ worth a damn. Might make it slow goin’, but that’s what a compromise is, right? Both people are kinda pissed off by it.” 

Carol laughs quietly.

“I guess so,” she says. “You’re still against trying to find a new place for us to go?”

“Never been against it. Just don’t want to take time away from the search.” Instead of agreeing with him, Carol just shakes her head, smiling fondly. Daryl bristles. “What? You don’t care that it means we might not find her as fast?”

“Of course I care,” Carol says patiently. She puts a hand on his thigh. “Remember when we went to Greece, and you were on a plane for the first time, and they did the whole safety demonstration before we took off?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember what I said to you?”

Daryl huffs.

“You said that you’d hafta fight me to get me to put my own oxygen mask on before the kids’.” 

“And I was absolutely right, because here you are, trying to save your children while you suffocate. But you know why they tell you to put yours on first, right?” 

“‘Cause if you go down you ain’t any help to them,” Daryl says reluctantly. 

“Exactly. Rick isn’t working against you, Daryl, he’s just trying to get you and me to put our oxygen masks on first, because he’s right. It’s not safe here. We lost Henry last night, and yet we were still luckier than we could have been. Next time we might not be. Next time it could be me, you, Rick, Glenn—any of them. God forbid it be Ryan or Jesse. We’re going to get our daughter back from that bitch, but we also have to make sure we have somewhere to bring her home to. We have to make sure there’s some _ one _ for her to come home to. I feel the same pain you do, Daryl, and there are moments where I wonder how I haven’t gone insane with how heavy this loss is, but we have to keep our heads. We can’t afford to make stupid mistakes.”

From over on the bed, Jesse, still asleep, lets out a couple coughs from deep in his chest, and Carol sighs.

“And I’m starting to get really worried about him, too,” she says. She says it casually, but Daryl can hear the fear in her voice.

“He gettin’ worse?”

“I gave him another dose of Tylenol while you were out throwing down with Rick, but it’s barely brought his fever down, and his coughs are scaring me. They sound like they’re from his lungs, not his sinuses. Remember when he was three and got bronchitis so bad he needed an inhaler? What if it gets to that but we have nothing to help him breathe? I’d feel so much better if we could find more medical supplies, and if we didn’t have to worry about having to go on the run if we get swarmed. He’s had so much trauma and not enough rest, and what if it just makes him sicker?”

From his spot on the floor, Daryl watches the heavy way his son’s chest moves up and down, and in addition to his worry he feels a rush of guilt. 

“I been so preoccupied with Jojo I haven’t paid enough attention to JJ,” he says.

“You’ve been paying attention, but we haven’t had reason to be all that concerned. And maybe we still don’t, maybe it is just a cold that’ll go away, but it seems to be getting worse, not better, and I think that means now we need to be watching him closer.”

“Aight,” Daryl agrees. “Then I’ll make it a priority. Gonna keep looking for our girl, but I’ll put real effort into findin’ us a safe place. Promise.”

“I know you will. Is it just you, Rick, and Glenn going?”

“That’s the plan. Glenn’s goin’ in case we find somewhere we can get supplies. Dude’s talented. He’s a great thief. But we wanted to have most everybody else back here, just in case more walkers show up and y’all need all hands on deck. ‘Specially with Ryan and JJ here.”

“That makes sense.”

“You okay with it?”

“Not at all. I don’t want you out of my sight for even a minute. But I get why you have to go, and I accept it. Just promise me something?”

“Anythin’.”

“Make sure you come home?”

“Promise,” Daryl says, wrapping an arm around her. He kisses her temple and whispers, “‘S’long as you’re still home when I get back.”

Carol rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Promise.”

*

“I’ve seen terrible, terrible things over the past week and a half, but for some reason that sight will not leave my mind. It’s like, seared into my brain forever,” Glenn says from the backseat of the car. Daryl glances over his shoulder and sees him holding his elbows and staring out the window with a grimace on his face.

“I get what you mean. It felt callous in a way that the other stuff hasn’t,” Rick says.

“Makes you wonder what kind of monster has my little girl,” Daryl says darkly. The other two don’t seem to know what to say to that. 

He’d taken them to the fenced off lot where Jesus and Aaron had spoken to Josie, and while they were there they saw what remained of Clyde after the walkers had gotten to his body, and the Aga-on-a-stick this Alpha woman had left behind. Seeing the pike for the second time did nothing to lessen his nausea over it, and that nausea increased tenfold when he thought about Josie having to witness it, too.

“If the group left yesterday morning, and assuming they headed east, it might not take us all that long to find them. It sounds like they’re on foot. How far could they get?” Rick says. He’s driving down a dirt road at a snail’s pace, keeping his promise to Daryl to let him try and search for Josie while they look for shelter.

“I’m more concerned about what happens when we do find them,” Glenn says. “Jesus and Aaron made these people sound really fucking weird—like,  _ unhinged _ weird—and if their leader is willing to do that to a woman just because she broke one rule? I dunno, I think we have to make sure we’re strategic about getting Josie out of there.”

“Maybe we’ll just send you in. You’re good at getting in and out, right?” Rick jokes.

“Ha ha. But seriously, at this point I’m leaning towards being more afraid of people than of walkers. Plus, we gotta make sure that whatever we do doesn’t put Josie in harm’s way.” 

“Didn’t sound like their group was all that bigger than ours,” Daryl says. “And we got enough weapons to keep us all strapped.”

“See, the old west shootout angle was the thing I was hoping to avoid,” Glenn says. Daryl hums non-committedly and Glenn sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he asks Rick, “You got any locations you got your eye on?”

“Not really. I’ve never been out this way, have either of you?”

“Nah,” Daryl says.

“Nope,” says Glenn. “So we’re just winging it entirely, huh?”

“Ain’t that what we been doin’ since day one?” Daryl points out.

“Yes. And our death toll is much higher than I would like it to be. Maybe we should consider  _ not _ flying by the seat of our pants.” 

“As soon as you figure out the protocol for managing the apocalypse you be sure to let us know,” Rick says. 

“Right,” Glenn mutters. He’s silent for a beat, and then says, “Let’s pull over for a minute. I gotta pee, and Daryl can scan the trees and see if he can find anything with his magic hunter’s eyes.” 

Rick hums, not sounding thrilled at the idea of stopping, but doesn’t argue. He pulls the car off onto the shoulder of the road and puts it in park. 

“We need to find gas soon,” he says, looking at the gas gauge before turning the ignition off.

“Put it on the list of shit we need to find,” Glenn says. “Which is getting longer by the second, I might add.”

Rick doesn’t bother to respond to Glenn’s quip, opting instead to open his door and hop out of the car. Daryl and Glenn follow suit, and the three of them stand together for a moment, staring at the trees. 

“Every time I go searchin’ for her I can never tell if I’m more afraid of findin’ somethin’ bad or findin’ nothin’ at all,” Daryl mutters. 

“Every time I go pee outside I get afraid that a walker is gonna try to eat me while I have my dick out,” Glenn says, making Daryl laugh in spite of himself. He gestures for his friends to follow and together they enter the woods.

While Glenn takes a piss and Rick wanders around acting like he has any idea what he’s looking for, Daryl scans the ground for any indication that Josie might have been here. There are footprints in the leaves; several of them. They’re hard to pick apart, the majority overlapping, but there’s something weird about them. Daryl crouches down to examine a couple clearer prints and follows them for a couple yards until they get too difficult to discern. He straightens up and frowns down at the path, confused.

“What is it?” Rick asks, coming up beside him, with Glenn close behind.

“These footprints in the ground don’t make sense,” Daryl says. He kneels and points, trying his best to show his friends what he means. “These prints are from the same person, but they’re real close together, like they was walkin’ real slow. Not just these, either. All’a these prints on this side are like they was walkin’ real slow. But they don’t shuffle the same way walker feet do, cause over here”—he leans forward to point at a different set of prints—“is what walker prints look like. They drag their feet more, and they step heavier. But both these prints look like they’re from around the same time.”

“So what does that mean?” asks Glenn.

“I dunno. It’ll sound kinda crazy, but what it looks like to me is a person—a living one—was walking in tandem with a walker, and was tryna mimic its footsteps.” 

“In tandem?” Glenn says. “You mean, side-by-side, holding hands, just walking along the path together as besties?”

“Told you it would sound crazy. I’m just tellin’ you what it looks like. I can’t make out the rest of these, there are too many.” He squints up ahead, trying to see how far the trail goes. He walks alongside it for a few more yards, until the trail breaks off to the right onto a dryer, emptier patch in the ground where the footsteps get too faint to follow without much closer inspection. 

Daryl huffs in irritation and starts to head back towards his friends, when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Amidst all the browns and greens of the forest, something white is standing out. He goes over to it, picks it out of the leaves, and immediately his heart begins racing.

“Guys,” he says sharply, motioning them over frantically. Rick and Glenn come over to see what the fuss is about, and Daryl thrusts his find out at them.

“A sock?” Rick asks, puzzled. 

“An old, dirty sock?” Glenn adds, wrinkling his nose.

“No, look at the side of it. Right here, see?” He smoothes the sock out so that his friends can see the letters sloppily drawn on the fabric with what looks to be—and what he genuinely  _ hopes _ to be—walker blood. 

“JGD,” Glenn reads aloud, and then shakes his head at Daryl. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s Jojo’s initials,” Daryl says, buzzing with adrenaline. “Jesus and Aaron said they told her to leave behind clues to help us track her down; said to leave things that would stick out. She did this, you guys. She was here, I know she was. She always puts her middle name in her initials. My baby was here, and this is her way of telling me.” 

Daryl has never been happier to hold a dirty sock. He grips it in his fist so tight his fingers hurt. When he’d found Josie’s hair that had felt like a betrayal. When he went to where Jesus and Aaron saw her he felt too late. But this? This is the first time Daryl has felt like he’s communicated with his daughter; the first time he feels like she has communicated specifically to him.

“God she’s smart,” Glenn says, shaking his head. “She would have had to think that through. It took planning.”

“She’s logical as hell. This is exactly what her thought process would tell her to do. A sock doesn’t belong in the forest, and what would be more obvious that it was her who left it than to use her name? She’s fuckin’ brilliant, dude.” 

“How long ago was it that she was here, then?” Rick asks. “Do you think she was a part of the group that left the weird footprints?”

“It’s possible.”

“And how old are they?”

Daryl bites his lip and examines the trail again, thinking. 

“They ain’t new,” he says. “But not long enough to be covered up entirely either. I’d say some time yesterday. It hasn’t been windy or nothin’, so it’s hard to say when exactly, but it was yesterday.”

“We’re a few miles out from the lot they left. If they walked straight through it’d take an hour or two. Longer if they were walking as slow as you said,” Glenn says.

“So they passed by here yesterday afternoon, maybe?” Rick suggests. “Still heading east, like we hoped.”

“She’s close by, guys, she has to be.” 

“I agree. But we’re not sure  _ how _ close. And Glenn’s right, we have to keep in mind that these people might be violent. But I’ll do what you think is best, brother. What’s our next move? Do we follow?”

Daryl weighs his options. The group could have gotten pretty far since yesterday afternoon, and the three of them can’t drive a car through the woods. Daryl would need to track on foot, and that could take all day. And if he did find them, even with Rick and Glenn with him, there’s a good chance they’d be outmanned and possibly outgunned. Daryl would risk himself in an instant, but what good is he if he gets taken down and leaves Josie in the crossfire?

“Well go back and formulate a plan before we do anythin’ else,” he says. He hates every word that comes out of his mouth. There’s not a bone in his body that doesn’t want to start sprinting through these woods to find her.

“You sure?” Glenn asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Daryl says reluctantly. “Gotta put my own oxygen mask on first.” 

His friends give him strange looks, but don’t ask him to clarify. 

“Should we head back to the car, then?” Glenn asks. Daryl nods, but Rick is suddenly distracted, frowning as he stares at something between a gap in the trees.

“What is it?” Daryl asks him. Rick doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts walking the opposite direction of the car. Daryl and Glenn exchange a shrug, and they follow. 

Rick breaks through the treeline first, where the forest opens up into a clearing on the edge of a big hill, and when the two of them join him he beams at them.

“Look,” he says, and points. 

Daryl looks to where his friend is pointing and sees what has him so entranced. A ways out, but visible from the top of the hill they’re on, sits what could be the answer to their shelter problem.

“A prison?” Glenn asks with a furrowed brow. Rick grins at him.

“Not a prison,” he says. “Home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i combining my two favorite twd arcs even tho they are like, 6-7 seasons apart on the show? hell yes i am. don't worry, tho, there won't be any governor in this, bc the governor is an exceptionally boring villain.
> 
> i've had jesse's illness planned for a very long time, but lemme tell you, writing ppl being concerned bc he keeps coughing all over the place sure hits different in the age of my sharona. 
> 
> anyway! this was less sad, right? we've all gotten over what happened last chapter and have forgiven anyone involved in making what happened last chapter happen. right?
> 
> (if it makes you feel better, i cried the entire time i wrote those last two scenes, but i was also still in writer's mode, so i would be blinking through tears being like, "is that supposed to be an em dash or a semicolon?" and also i was at work alone in my office, it was a whole thing, let's just forget it happened, moving on)
> 
> next update is 10/4, which is the finale-that's-not-actually-a-finale air date! finally! this show owns my soul so i'll see it on 10/1 bc i deadass pay amc $5 a month just so i can see these dumb episodes three days early, but whatever, we do what we must to find joy in this life
> 
> see you then, fuck-os,  
-diz


	16. The Befores and The Afters

“A prison?” Carol asks, standing behind the couch with her arms crossed next to Daryl. “Sounds charming.”

“Sounds safe,” Rick amends. “High fences, secure walls, cells that lock—it could be the ultimate protection.” He’s practically vibrating with excitement, and Daryl knows he’ll do whatever he can to sell this to the others, and while Daryl has a few reservations of his own, he can’t help but agree that the idea of being in a place that’s built to be impenetrable is infinitely preferable to this house where they’re sitting ducks. If they have to change base they may as well go hard. He doesn’t want to have to keep moving around—he wants to stay put so they can focus all their attention on the search.

“What if there are people already there?” Maggie asks from where she’s perched on the arm of the recliner. “I wouldn’t feel safe sharing, and taking by force sounds...well, you know how that sounds.”

“Obviously if others have already claimed the prison we’ll have to reevaluate,” Rick says, not deterred. “But if it had been the prison in my precinct I know that their course of action would have been to evacuate anyone except essential personnel. And if anyone was infected while they were in there I imagine it wouldn't have taken long to spread to anyone who was left. And as for inmates still locked up? I mean, gruesome as it may be, they’ve been without water or food for at least two weeks. I don’t think they would have—”

“I get it,” Maggie says, grimacing. 

“What if it’s overrun?” Michonne asks. She’s leaning up against the front door. “If infection did run through the place then wouldn’t it be full of walkers?”

“Depends on how many people were left,” says Rick.

“‘Sides,” Daryl speaks up. “Prison’s gonna be divided into cell blocks. Don’t gotta clear the whole thing at once. We could clear enough space for us and keep walkers out of the area easy if all the locks are workin’.” Who knew having a felon for a brother would afford Daryl specialized knowledge to help during the apocalypse? 

“You’re for this plan, then?” Carol asks him. He twists his mouth and shrugs.

“I definitely don’t relish the thought of bein’ locked up in a literal prison,” he tells her. “But Rick’s right when he says it’d be a helluva lot safer if we were able to pull it off.” 

Carol nods slowly, looking thoughtful.

“Who all would be in charge of clearing it if we do decide to do this?” she asks. “We can’t all go barging in. We’ve got Ryan and Jesse to take care of. We’d have to split up duties. And do the ones not clearing the prison just wait here and hope everything goes smoothly? It’s not like we can just give each other a call if something comes up.”

“I’m not against this plan, but Carol’s right. We need to discuss the logistics. I’m not leaving my son,” Rachael says from her spot on the couch. She’s holding her elbows, her shoulders hunched, but she’s got the steeled look in her eye of a fighter, and Daryl knows better than to doubt her strength, both physical and mental.

“The yard wasn’t like, flooded with walkers or anything,” Glenn says. He’s sitting in the recliner with a hand on Maggie’s lower back “There weren’t any more than we dealt with last night. With all the people we have we could easily take them out, and then the fences would prevent any others from getting in. Then, when we do decide who’s gonna go into the prison itself, the rest can hang back in the yard. They’d be safe, but still close by.”

“That seems like a sound plan to me,” Aaron says, sitting on the other end of the couch. “Even if we weren’t able to get into the prison, camping out in the fenced yard would be world’s safer than staying here.” 

“It’s gettin’ too chilly at night,” Daryl says. “We need to get the prison cleared to give us shelter. JJ is too sick to be out there in the open with nothin’ but a couple blankets and a tent.” 

“He spent all morning coughing,” Carol says quietly to Daryl. “But no matter how hard he coughs nothing comes up, like it’s all stuck. I’m worried he might start having trouble breathing if we don’t find something to break up the crap in his chest.” 

“The prison will have an infirmary,” Glenn says. “There will be more medical supplies than we have now. Bigger variety of meds. Hell, maybe some of the inmates had inhalers or something. Either way, it’ll be more than what we have here.”

“He’s right,” Rick says. “And there’ll be a cafeteria, too. Food stored away. Plenty to keep us fed until we can find more.” He looks to Daryl expectantly, and after a moment’s hesitation he nods in response.

“It’s our best bet,” he agrees, not thrilled, but knowing it’s true. 

“Great,” Jesus says from the floor where he’s sitting with his legs criss-crossed. “So when do we start?” 

*

_ Daryl kisses up the length of Carol’s body and sucks on the skin of her neck, smiling when she hums contentedly, threading her fingers through his hair. He lets her slide the condom on him and then enters her slowly. He captures her mouth with his once he’s in to the hilt, and she bites lightly on his lower lip. He finds a rhythm and they go at it for a while, until Carol decides she wants to be on top. _

_ The two of them roll to switch positions, the motion practiced and familiar. What’s _ not _ familiar is the way they slide into the dip in the middle of their new-used Craigslist mattress. They lose their balance, and Daryl has to grab Carol’s hips to keep her from toppling over. Laughing, they shuffle back to the left side of the bed. _

_ “I thought we got a bigger bed to give us more space for activities like this,” Carol says, still straddling Daryl. _

_ “Adds a sense of adventure,” Daryl says, leaning up to steal a kiss from her. _

_ “Gotta keep things fresh now that we’re officially living together, right?” _

_ “Mhm,” Daryl hums. He’s distracted as she lowers herself down and takes him inside of her once again. _

_ They continue in this fashion, careful not to lean too much towards the middle, lest they fall into the dip again. Broken beds don’t concern Daryl at all when Carol shudders and cums on top of him, causing him to follow close behind. _

_ He’s a bit more aware of the issue when they pull apart and go to cuddle in the afterglow. It takes some maneuvering to find a way for them to lie that balances it out and prevents either of them from rolling. That’s alright, though. It’s still better than trying to squeeze together on the shitty twin-sized mattress at his daddy’s place. Besides, this bed, broken or not, is special because it’s _ theirs _ . Not just the bed—the entire house is theirs. The papers have been signed, the keys have been handed to them, the last box has been brought inside, and now here they are— _ home _ . _

_ “What are you thinking about?” Carol asks after a while. Her head is resting on Daryl’s chest and he’s absent-mindedly stroking her arm. _

_ “You,” he says. He gives her a peck on the temple. “And ‘bout how happy I am to officially be livin’ with you.” _

_ “Mm, I’m happy, too.” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Yes. Very happy. And not just because it means I don’t have to sleep on my aunt’s couch that’s covered in cat hair I’m allergic to. I’m happy because you’re here with me.” _

_ “Hopefully you don’t get sick of me,” Daryl tries to say in jest, but he sees right through him. She cranes her neck to cast him a significant look, and then burrows in closer to him, threatening their precarious position around the dip in the bed. _

_ “I won’t,” she says. _

_ “Can’t know that for sure.” _

_ “Maybe _ you’ll _ get sick of _ me _ .” _

_ “I won’t,” Daryl says with one hundred percent certainty. Carol laughs quietly. _

_ “Can’t know that for sure,” she parrots back at him. She can’t see it but he scowls. Of course he knows he won’t ever get sick of her. But that’s not the same in reverse. She’s the best thing that ever happened to him, but he’s just _ something _ that happened to her. He doesn’t doubt that she loves him, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t worry that if she could understand—like, _ truly _ understand—just how much he loves her that she might run for the hills. _

_ “I do know,” he tells her. “And I know that I’m the luckiest mother fucker in the world to have myself a girl like you.” _

_ “Of course. I mean, who wouldn’t want this hot mess?” _

_ “Shush,” Daryl mutters, flicking her shoulder. “You’re smart, funny as hell, plus there ain’t anythin’ prettier or better to look at than you.” _

_ “You’re a flirt.” _

_ “Maybe. I mean it, though. Like, I didn’t know I even had a dream girl, yet here you are in bed with me in our own place.” _

_ “I could say the same about you, dream man,” Carol says. Daryl isn’t so sure, but he doesn’t object. _

_ “Love you like hell,” he says instead. “And I know I’m bein’ a cornball right now ‘cause I’m feelin’ some type of way. Everything’s just sinkin’ in, I think. Like the fact that I don’t gotta go back there, you know? I went from the worst place to the best place in one afternoon, and, I dunno, that’s a lot.” _

_ “I get it. I feel it, too. I remember how off-balance I felt when my mom died, because suddenly my life was divided into two parts—the Before and the After. It’s nice to know it’s not only tragedy, though. The After can be good. Really good.” _

_ “That what this feels like to you?” _

_ “How do you mean?” _

_ “Like one of them things that divide your life into a Before and an After?” _

_ “I think so. Last night I was living my old life, and today I’m starting my new one with you. I guess all the Afters are also beginnings, and there will be other things that turn Befores into Afters, but I’m not as scared of them anymore, because I have you. I dunno if you feel this way, too, but for me it’s like I went from having to face everything alone to being part of a team.” _

_ “I feel that way, too,” Daryl says quietly. Of course he does, which is one of the reasons he’s afraid of losing her. He doesn’t want to go back to being alone. Carol turns onto her stomach—very carefully—and looks Daryl in the eye. _

_ “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, and Daryl wonders if she read his mind. _

_ “I know, baby,” he says, pushing her hair behind her ear. _

_ “Do you?” she asks. The best Daryl can give her is a shrug. She reaches up and cups his face, brushing her thumb over his lips. “I’m not just sticking around until something better comes along, Daryl. I’m here because I love you. And I don’t think I’m the type that loves and trusts all that easily, so to me that’s a big deal. And I think maybe the same could be said of you.” _

_ “Yeah,” Daryl whispers, watching her intently. _

_ “I see a future with you. I have no idea what it’ll look like—I imagine we’ll go through a helluva lot of Befores and Afters—but at the end of the day I see you and me being a team for as long as possible. That’s what I want, if you want it, too.” _

_ “I do.” More than anything, he says internally. _

_ “Good.” Carol pushes herself up to kiss him thoroughly. Against his mouth she whispers, “Ride or die, right?” Daryl smiles. _

_ “Ride or die, baby,” he whispers back. She starts to pull away, but he tugs her back and kisses her again, harder this time. _

_ “Round two already?” Carol teases, but she sounds breathless. Daryl starts running his hands along the skin of her belly, and moves up to ghost over her breasts. _

_ He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he props himself up to pepper kisses along her jaw, all the way down to her prominent collarbone. He shifts to readjust his hard-on, and that’s enough to throw them off balance. They topple over and roll, trapping Carol smack dab in the middle of the dip in the mattress, with Daryl holding himself above her with his hands on either side of her. _

_ Carol laughs hard, and Daryl can’t help smiling at how beautiful she looks when her face lights up like that. Without bothering to crawl out of the slope, she puts a hand on the back of his head and pushes him down to her. He goes willingly, kissing her senseless, sinking them even further into their new-used broken bed, in their new-used rundown house that is all their own. _

_ The best start of their new After. _

*

Claiming the prison yard is as easy as Glenn predicted, at least physically. Mentally, however, Daryl struggles as he watches, one-by-one, men in orange jumpsuits hit the ground. It’s impossible not to think of his brother; of how far gone Daryl thought he was until he had the reason and the support to be brought back.

Daryl drives the blade of the knife Merle gave him into and through the skull of a walker with a buzzcut and a prison getup, and wonders—what about him? Did this man do something so heinous there was no coming back from it, or had there been potential left inside him? Maybe he’d been locked up after making a few mistakes, and was waiting for someone to come and tell him, “You’re worth more than this, and you’re worth the effort it takes to love you while you heal.”

Daryl pulls his blade back and the man, and any potential he might have had, collapses at his feet.

He stops thinking about what he’s doing and focuses instead on why. He thinks about Jesse, who had coughed himself hoarse on the drive over and could hardly speak by the time they reached the prison. He thinks about Josie, still in the hands of a dangerous stranger and desperately leaving clues in hopes that Daryl will find her. 

He thinks about his children’s mother, his wife and teammate, and how he owes her everything, and how he vowed, time and again, to be there for her and to keep her protected.

He keeps his family at the forefront of his mind as blood splatters on his bare arms and already filthy clothing. He pictures their faces when walkers come at him, and uses the pain in his gut he gets when he pictures them as monsters as motivation. He’ll do whatever it takes to prevent them from having their potential stolen from them.

He does what he has to do.

And he does it all for them.

*

Daryl stands atop an old bus that not all that long ago used to carry inmates to and from the prison. It hasn’t been long, in the scheme of things, but the bus still feels like a relic of the past. He fiddles with the string of his crossbow, testing the resistance of it as he gazes out past the gates of the prison.

From here he can see the forest, starting to grow dark with the setting sun, and he’s surprised at his pang of longing. It has to do with confinement, he figures; with the fact that, come morning, he and his friends will be fighting their way into whatever is inside to greet them, all so that they can make a home here. And for how long? Daryl wonders. How long will his prison sentence be?

He turns to survey the yard. The two measly tents they have are set up. The kids get first dibs, of course, Jesse especially, and their parents by extension, which makes Daryl feel guilty, as he’d be perfectly comfortable sleeping in the grass to let someone else have the space, but he wants to be close to Jesse and Carol. Maggie, ever the farm girl with no fear of the outdoors, has laid out a sleeping space for herself and Glenn near the firepit. The corner of Daryl’s lip twitches at the thought of Glenn being coerced to sleep out in the open, and looks forward to mocking him when his friend inevitably complains about mosquito bites. He’s got to find levity where he can, right?

Rick is walking the perimeter for the hundredth time, checking the fences for any compromised areas, and Daryl suspects his insistence comes from a guilt he won’t admit to after getting them into, and subsequently locked inside of, the CDC. Daryl would remind him that it had been a group decision to go if he thought it’d help, but with Hershel sitting by himself with the same vacant look he’s had for days now, Daryl doesn’t think Rick would hear a word he said. Daryl notices Michonne watching Rick from a distance with her arms crossed, and he figures she’s thinking the same thing.

Jesus is tending to the fire and talking idly with Aaron and Rachel, who has her arms wrapped protectively around Ryan. The kid stares out at nothing, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess that he’s seeing plenty. His whole mind must be a reel of all the horrors they’ve faced in the past two weeks, playing on a constant loop. Daryl knows his mind is.

A thunk comes at the side of the bus, and Daryl looks down and sees Carol climbing up the makeshift ladder they put together. Daryl bends down and helps her up, and the second her feet touch the roof of the bus she steps in close and wraps her arms around him. Daryl does the same automatically, holding her tight and resting his chin on the top of her head.

“You alright?” he asks her. 

“That’s a stupid question,” she mumbles, her face pressed against his chest. Daryl concedes the point.

“How’s our boy?” he asks instead.

“Exhausted,” she says. “Poor kid can’t sleep more than twenty minutes at a time without coughing himself awake.” 

“Now he knows how we felt when he’d wake us up every five seconds when he was a newborn,” Daryl jokes. Carol snorts.

“Guess he does.”

“‘M worried ‘bout him,” Daryl whispers, no longer in a joking mood, if he ever really was. 

“Me, too.”

“He ain’t himself. I don’t just mean sick. I mean shit is finally startin’ to hit him, I think. I think Henry really solidified it for him.” 

“I agree. He misses Josie, and I don’t think he realized just how lost she is until he knew there was no way for us to let her say goodbye to Henry. It was something too unfathomable for him to even consider.”

“Can’t say I blame him. Was for me, too.” 

“Yeah.” She takes a step back and looks up at him. “What if he’s getting worse because there’s no fight left in him? What if it’s too much for him to handle? He’s so sweet, and so sensitive, and we can’t fix a broken heart, Daryl.”

“Nah, we can’t. But we can treat an illness. Glenn’s right. There’s gotta be an infirmary inside. We just gotta find it. And we will, and then he’ll have a safe place to sleep and meds to help get him all better. And once we get Jojo home his heart will start to heal, too. He’ll be just fine. Both of ‘em will be.”

“I feel like we’re fighting a ticking clock, except I can’t see what the timer’s at. It’s like a bomb is gonna go off and we have to diffuse it, but we don’t get to know how long we have to try. What if we have hours instead of days? Minutes instead of hours?”

“All we can do is keep pushin’ forward, baby. We’re gonna get inside tomorrow, and from then on out all our focus is gonna be on findin’ Jojo. She left us a clue. I know she’ll do it again. It’s not gonna take long. She’s close, I can feel it.”

Carol ducks her head and sighs.

“You’re gonna ask me to stay behind with Jesse tomorrow while you go inside, aren’t you?” Carol asks, peering back up at him again. Daryl chews his lower lip.

“One of us has to,” he says finally.

“I could go,” she says, but Daryl is already shaking his head.

“No. You ain’t goin’ in there without me.”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“I think that I got more experience than you. It’s not about whether or not you’re strong, Carol. I know you is, that’s not up for debate, but I’m the better shot. I got more tactical skill. I grew up learnin’ that shit. You didn’t. I’m safer in there than you are, and there’s no way in hell I’m losin’ you.”

“But what if I lose _ you _ ?” she asks, eyes brimming with tears. “Everyone expects you to be willing to jump right into the middle of the danger while I stay behind, because you ‘have more experience,’ but that’s not fair. Your children need you. _ I _ need you. You’re not expendable, damnit.” Her body is trembling, and Daryl can hear the panic rising in her voice. He takes her hands and squeezes them tight.

“No one’s expendable, alright? No one is sendin’ anyone anywhere ‘cause they think they’re worth less than the others. I can do what needs to be done, and so that’s why I gotta be the one. But I ain’t lookin’ to die, Carol. Every time I step away from you I have every intention of comin’ back.”

“But what if you don’t? If not this time, then the next? Or the time after that? I’m already worried that my children are dying, and now I’m just expected to accept that I have to let you leave us behind while you go fight? You’re not a soldier, and you never asked to go to war.”

“None of us did, sweetheart. But these are our cards, and we can’t do nothin’ about that.”

Carol sniffs and wipes her eyes. She blows out a long breath and nods.

“I know. And I won’t ask you to stay behind. Just promise me you won’t be reckless.” 

“I promise.”

“Alright.” She steps back into his arms again and whispers, “You and I are a team, remember? Don’t make me have to learn how to play alone again.” 

“I won’t,” Daryl says, hoping it’s a promise he can keep. “You won’t never be alone.” 

*

_ "Avast ye, villain! You dare enter my waters? For that you'll walk the plank!" Glenn says dramatically, pointing a sword at Jesse from the inside of his ship. The sword is a stick, and the ship is a cardboard box. Jesse, standing in his own cardboard box, suppresses a giggle before falling back into his role. _

_ "I am here to steal your booty," Jesse says. He's wielding his own sword, which is also a stick. _

_ "My booty?!" Glenn gasps. He claps a hand to his rear-end and says, "What does a pirate need my booty for?" _

_ "Not that kind of booty," Jesse says, unable to stop himself from dissolving into giggles. Josie—who is sitting in the grass with her back against a tree, reading a book about the solar system that's a whole grade level above her—looks up at Glenn with a frown. _

_ "Booty means treasure, not your bottom," she says seriously. _

_ "Oh, my mistake. Thank you," Glenn says solemnly. Josie nods and turns back to her book. _

_ "Uncle Glenn, don't talk to the sea monster, it might come and eat us," Jesse admonishes. _

_ "Who's this 'Uncle Glenn' you're referring to?" Glenn asks, raising an eyebrow. _

_ " _ Captain _ Glenn," Jesse corrects. He gestures at Josie with his play sword and drops his voice to a whisper. "Sea monsters don't like pirates." _

_ "I'm not a sea monster," Josie says, peeking up just long enough to cast a glare at her brother. _

_ "Yes you are. You're in the ocean." Jesse does a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate the expanse of the yard. _

_ "I'm not playing pirate, I'm reading a book," she says, annoyed. _

_ "She's got a point," Glenn says. "Can sea monster's read?" _

_ "If they go to kindergarten, yeah," says Jesse confidently. _

_ "Oh, of course." _

_ "Sea monsters are pretend," says Josie. _

_ Glenn cups the corner of his mouth and stage-whispers to Jesse, "Sounds like something a sea monster would say." _

_ "Oh my god," Josie huffs. "How come I'm a sea monster but daddy's not? Daddy is in the grass, too." _

_ "It's the _ ocean _ ," Jesse insists. He points at Daryl who's sitting in the yard, tearing up a dandelion absent-mindedly, staining his fingers bright yellow, as he watches Glenn and Jesse play pretend. "And that's not daddy, that's a scary shark." _

_ "Dumb," Josie mumbles, not looking up from her book. _

_ "A shark, huh?" Daryl asks with a smirk. _

_ "Oh no, you better hope you're a fast swimmer when I make you walk the plank, you nasty pirate," Glenn says. "Or else the shark might get you." _

_ “How come Jojo’s a cool sea monster, but all I get to be is a shark?” _

_ “You’re a real big shark, though. Like the size of three hippo-potato-mouses.” _

_ “Hippopotamuses,” Josie corrects, still not looking up. _

_ “Do I at least got like, extra sharp teeth or somethin’?” _

_ “Sharks already have lots of teeth. I saw a picture of a shark and his mouth was open real wide and he had _ so many _ teeth.” _

_ “Can I have even more?” _

_ “Hm, okay. You’re a real big shark with lots of teeth.” _

_ “How many?” _

_ “Like pro’ly more than ten.” _

_ “Sharks have lots more than ten teeth,” Josie protests, frowning at her brother. _

_ “That’s what I said,” Jesse argues back. Josie rolls her eyes, and looks like she’s about to say something else when she’s cut off by Jesse squealing as Glenn leaps from his cardboard box into Jesse’s. _

_ “You fool!” Glenn says, wrapping his arms around Jesse’s middle. “You should never turn your back during a pirate battle. Now I have you captured and I’m gonna get _ your _ booty.” _

_ “Nuh-uh, you don’t know where I hided it.” _

_ “I’ve got ways of making you talk,” Glenn says conspiratorially. He lifts Jesse up in his arms and holds him over the grass. “Tell me where you’ve hidden it or I’ll throw you in the ocean. Legend has it that real big sharks with more than ten teeth live in there, and do you know what those types of sharks favorite thing to have for supper is?” _

_ “What?” Jesse asks, grinning even as he fights Glenn’s grasp. _

_ “Pirates.” To Daryl, Glenn says, “I’ve got fresh meat for you, Mr. Shark.” _

_ “I still am not gonna tell you where I hided my treasure,” Jesse says. _

_ “Then into the ocean with you!” Glenn declares. He plops Jesse onto the grass and holds his hands back as he tries to scramble back into the cardboard box. Taking his cue, Daryl scoots over and snatches Jesse up and begins tickling his sides. Giggling hysterically, Jesse gives up trying to escape. Daryl pretends to take a bite out of his arm. _

_ “Glad you got thrown overboard, kid, I ain’t had supper in forever. The sea monster over there keeps eatin’ all the fish.” He plants a kiss on his son’s chubby cheek and adds, “Taste real sweet, too.” _

_ “Another victory for me!” Glenn declares. _

_ “You didn’t win ‘cause you still don’t know where I hided my treasure,” Jesse says, freeing himself from Daryl and hiccuping from laughing so hard. _

_ “Dang, guess I’ll hafta search on my own, huh?” Glenn steps out of the box and goes over to Josie, who glances up at him warily. _

_ “What?” she asks. _

_ “I have a pirate question,” Glenn says. _

_ “I’m not playing pirate.” _

_ “Oh, okay, that’s fine. I just had a question about the stars, but I’ll just ask your mom when she gets home from work.” _

_ Josie frowns. “Momma doesn’t know so much about stars,” she says. “I do, though.” _

_ “But I thought you weren’t playing pirate?” _

_ “Yeah, but...I can still tell you about stars if you want.” _

_ “Hmmm, okay,” Glenn says. He lowers himself to the ground next to Josie. “So I accidentally got this dude eaten by a shark before I could find out where his treasure is, so now I gotta look on my own, but I don’t know what direction to go. I think maybe I should go north, but I don’t know which way that is. Do you think there are any stars that can help me?” _

_ “Uh-huh,” Josie says, perking up. She sets her book upside down on her lap. “There’s a star called the North Star, but it’s really called Polaris, and I know that’s true ‘cause a teacher told me.” _

_ “Polaris, huh? Is that the one in the Big Dipper?” _

_ “No, it’s in the Little Dipper.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Mhm.” _

_ “Oh.” Glenn laughs and looks over his shoulder at Daryl, telling him, “I actually didn’t know that.” _

_ “I know lots of things about stars,” Josie insists. _

_ “More than ten things?” _

_ She squints at Glenn like he’s stupid. _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Well, what else do you know?” _

_ “Sometimes when stars get old they turn into black holes and black holes suck in stuff and crushes it, but that’s okay ‘cause our sun isn’t big enough to be a black hole so pro’ly we won’t get crushed, which is good ‘cause then we would die.” _

_ “...Neat,” says Glenn. He taps the book in Josie’s lap. “Is this about stars?” _

_ “No, it’s about the solar system.” _

_ “You probably know more about it than I do. Wanna tell me about it?” _

_ “Okay,” Josie says with a shrug, but Daryl isn’t fooled. He can see how she’s bouncing her leg like she does when she’s excited. _

_ “Hey Captain Birthday Twin,” Glenn calls over to Jesse. “Wanna come learn about the solar system with me?” _

_ “Are there pictures?” Jesse asks. _

_ “Yeah,” says Josie. _

_ “Then okay.” He gets to his feet, wiping grass off his shorts, and joins Glenn and Josie. _

_ Daryl lies on his back and closes his eyes, hands behind his head, and listens to Josie give an astronomy lesson just for fun. He smiles to himself when Glenn asks her all the right questions, and humors Jesse when he asks about space aliens. Glenn knows the twins to a T, and there are few things better to Daryl than knowing how much effort his friend puts into making sure his kids know that they are loved. In a way, it makes him feel loved by extension. _

_ He didn’t have friends for years, but damn if he didn’t pick the right ones when he finally did. _

*

_ (7:09p) >What do you get one year olds for their birthday? I'm at Target with Michonne and we're both like ???< _

_ (7:10p) -lol u dnt have 2 get them anything they wont kno the difference- _

_ (7:10p) -theyll just b happy 2 c u- _

_ (7:11p) >It's a /birthday party/. I am not showing up to a birthday party without a present. Or in this case two presents.< _

_ (7:11p) >But also what do babies like?< _

_ (7:12p) -from wut i can tell they like chewing on things they aint sposed 2 chew on n gettin into things they aint sposed 2 get into- _

_ (7:12p) -does tht help?- _

_ (7:13p) >It does not.< _

_ (7:14p) ~psh, amateurs.~ _

_ (7:15p) >Have something to say, Glenn?< _

_ (7:16p) ~clearly you two don't know the fine art of selecting gifts for children. that's alright, not everybody can be as skinned as i am.~ _

_ (7:16p) ~*skilled.~ _

_ (7:17p) -clearly v skilled- _

_ (7:17p) >I'll skin you if you want, though.< _

(7:18p) ~ha ha, you're hilarious.~

_ (7:19p) >Ok, but if you're so great then what did you get the twins?< _

_ (7:20p) ~i'd hate to spoil the surprise.~ _

_ (7:21p) -wudnt u h8 keeping a secret more?- _

_ (7:22p) ~eh, good point. so for jesse i got these big, foam dice, since he's been trying so hard to steal yours, daryl.~ _

_ (7:23p) -r u sure ur not just tryna turn my son into a dnd nerd like u did 2 me n rick? cuz i feel like thts a p big life choice 4 him 2 make so young- _

_ (7:24p) ~i mean, that's definitely part of my agenda, but also he just super loves imitating people. it's super cute.~ _

_ (7:25p) -yeah xcept he saw merle flip me off n he keeps tryna do it 2 strangers @ the grocery store- _

_ (7:25p) -thankfully his motor control aint gud yet so it just looks like a weird wave- _

_ (7:26p) >Alright, Jesse's easy, though. He can make anything a toy. When we watched him while Mr. & Mrs. Dixon were overseas he entertained himself for an hour by rolling and babbling at an orange that fell off the counter. Granted he made us roll and babble at it too, but still.< _

_ (7:26p) >What about Miss Not Impressed By Much? What'd you get her?< _

_ (7:27p) ~please. you make it sound impossible, when in fact it was quite simple.~ _

_ (7:27p) ~i went to this build-a-bear knockoff place and got a stuffed dog that kinda looks like henry, and when you press its paw it plays twinkle twinkle little star, which has the added bonus of driving daryl and carol insane because i'm sure they fucking hate that song by now.~ _

_ (7:28p) >God, she made us sing that so many times.< _

_ (7:29p) -yeah no she luvs tht fukin song- _

_ (7:29p) -idk if thts a gr8 gift or if i shud murder u b4 ur able 2 give it 2 her- _

_ (7:30p) ~i also got her chocolate teddy grahams, because i know how to get on the girl's good side.~ _

_ (7:31p) >Ugh, you do. You're so good with kids, it's annoying. I have to get better. I can't wait until they're teenagers for them to realize I'm the favorite uncle.< _

_ (7:32p) ~in what universe would you ever be able to win over teenagers?~ _

_ (7:33p) >I'll be a cop. If they get into stupid trouble they got connections to keep them out of the slammer. Like if they get caught with Cinnabon vodka they can just name drop Uncle Rick.< _

_ (7:34p) -a better uncle wud make sure their 1st drink isnt fukin cinnabon vodka- _

_ (7:35p) ~for real rick, learn from your mistakes.~ _

_ (7:36p) -there was a cinnabon in the atlanta airport n carol asked if i wanted 2 get smthn from there n i almost hurled- _

_ (7:37p) ~yeah i'm scarred for life.~ _

_ (7:37p) ~i'll get them tequila or something and will maintain favorite uncle status.~ _

_ (7:38p) -no u wont- _

_ (7:39p) ~did i say tequila? i meant apple juice and a quiet space for them to do their homework.~ _

_ (7:40p) >Whatever. When they get caught with their "apple juice" I'll be there to bail them out and lie to mom and dad.< _

_ (7:41p) -no u wont- _

_ (7:42p) >Did I say lie to mom and dad? I meant to say I'd take them to you and Carol and have a nice long chat about the consequences of underage drinking.< _

_ (7:43p) -ur both r terrible influences- _

_ (7:44p) ~whatever, mr. teen pregnancy. did you ever figure out what to get the twins, rick? or are you still standing in the toy aisle at target looking lost like that time daryl tried to buy condoms at the pharmacy?~ _

_ (7:44p) ~the irony here is if he had thought to buy condoms before coming to your new year's eve party you wouldn't be stuck at target right now.~ _

_ (7:45p) -stfu- _

_ (7:46p) ~just saying.~ _

_ (7:49p) >Ended up going the safe route with building blocks and this weird push toy shaped like a firetruck.< _

_ (7:49p) >And also chocolate teddy grahams, just for good measure.< _

_ (7:50p) ~cheater.~ _

_ (7:51p) -theyll luv it- _

_ (7:51p) -ty 4 givin a shit abt them- _

_ (7:52p) ~duh.~ _

_ (7:52p) >They're our Dixon twins, brother. We'll give a shit until the day we die.< _

_ (7:53p) -lol thnx- _

_ (7:53p) -cant believe my bbies r almost 1yr old- _

_ (7:54p) ~seriously. what a wild fucking year.~ _

_ (7:55p) >My guess is it'll only get wilder from here on out.< _

_ (7:56p) ~whatever, bring it on. team groupchat can handle it, and uncle glenn can do anything, because he's the best.~ _

_ (7:56p) ~dumbass changed the group name to "Team Favorite Uncle, Rick, & Daryl"~ _

_ (7:57p) >grp prjct rick changed the group name to "Chocolate Teddy Grahams Won't Save You When They're Teens Asshole"< _

_ (7:58p) -you changed the group name to "no more cinnabon vodka mistakes"- _

_ (7:59p) >Fair.< _

_ (7:59p) ~god bless.~ _

_ (8:00p) -cant tell if these kids r lucky or screwed 2 grow up w/ yall as role models- _

_ (8:01p) ~whatever, dude, you know you wouldn't change it for the world.~ _

_ (8:01p) >Yeah, you're #blessed as hell to have us.< _

_ (8:02p) -ig- _

_ (8:02p) -idiots- _

_ (8:02p) -( <3 )- _

*

Rick unzips the flap to the smaller tent Daryl’s sharing with Carol and Jesse, and Daryl—on high alert, even in his sleep—is awake before his friend can get out a single, “Psst.”

“Ready to go in twenty?” Rick whispers. Through the open tent flap Daryl can tell it’s dawn. A cool breeze comes through, making him shiver. He and Carol are sharing one thin blanket, anything else they had left to share piled over Jesse. He nods silently. Satisfied, Rick disappears the way he came.

Daryl tries to untangle himself from Carol without waking her up, but it’s futile. She’s always been a light sleeper, the years playing caregiver to her mother making her ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. She stirs the instant Daryl starts to get up, and she blinks her eyes open, her gaze landing on him.

“Gonna go take care of everythin’ and then will come right back,” Daryl whispers before she can say anything. She seems like she wants to object, but instead she pulls her hand out from under the blanket and puts it on his cheek.

“Be safe,” she says simply.

“You, too.”

“Nine lives, remember?” 

Daryl gives her a crooked half-smile and leans down to kiss her for a long moment. He then turns his attention on Jesse, who’s under a mountain of blankets, with only his floofy mop of air sticking out. Carefully crawling over Carol, Daryl pushes the blankets out of the way just enough to reveal Jesse’s forehead, and he gives it a kiss. The little boy’s skin is hot beneath his lips, and Daryl pulls back with a sigh, trying and failing to stem his worry.

“Daddy?” Jesse mumbles, cracking an eye open and squinting at him. “What are you doing?”

“Gotta go run an errand with your uncles and Auntie Michonne,” Daryl says quietly. He strokes Jesse’s cheek and adds, “You go on back to sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a lil’ while.” 

“Are you gonna go get Joey?” 

“Not yet, but real soon, I promise.” Daryl feels like the biggest piece of shit at the sad sigh Jesse lets out, but he can’t think of anything to say to fix it, so he just says, “I love you. More than anythin’, okay?”

“Love you, too,” Jesse mutters, coughing a couple deep coughs into his pillow as he shuffles onto his side, facing away from Daryl. Carol puts a hand on Daryl’s arm.

“He’ll be fine,” she tells him softly. “I’ll be with him the whole time.”

Daryl nods and kisses her again. They exchange I love yous of their own, and Daryl crawls out of the tent, trying to swallow down the guilt in his throat as he leaves the two of them behind.

*

Daryl isn’t exactly sure what’s in store for them until they get to the door that must have been used to get inmates to and from the prison yard. They don’t even have to knock to get their attention before the walkers are shoving themselves against the heavy door. The door itself is unlocked and pushes open a crack when it’s body-slammed by the dead inside, but someone has tied it shut with a chain and padlock.

“What’s our play here?” Glenn asks, looking between the other three nervously. Daryl gets the impression that his friend is feeling like the odd one out. Daryl has the survival skills, Rick has the tactical training, and Michonne is proficient with the quietest weapon they have that can take down several walkers at once, but Glenn? He isn’t a fighter. He’d argued that Jesus and Aaron were better suited, but Daryl and Rick agreed they wanted them to stay behind to protect the yard in case something broke bad during their attempt to clear the prison. Rick and Daryl had insisted that Glenn’s strategic nature and sneakiness were valuable skills, and reluctantly he’d acquiesced. 

“Can we reach any of them without breaking the lock?” Michonne asks. Twisting his mouth, Daryl steps in closer, his friends around him tensing as he places a hand on the door. Immediately, long, decomposing fingers start poking through the gap, reaching out desperately towards Daryl. Swallowing, Daryl ignores them and peeks through the crack where he can see a bunch of snarling faces snapping their teeth at him like wild animals, their growls growing louder at the sight and smell of him.

“I don’t think so,” he says. He takes a step back. “Too small for your sword to go through, Michonne, and too dangerous to stick a hand in with a knife. I could maybe get a bolt or two through, but the angle is shit. Can’t promise my aim would be true.”

“Then we’ll have to break the lock,” Rick says decisively. “We do that, and then find a way to filter them through one at a time so they don’t overwhelm us.”

“I’ll brace the door,” Glenn says then. His voice shakes but he’s resolute. “Rick, you break the lock with the butt of your gun, and then help me. That’ll leave Michonne and Daryl free to take them down as we let them through.”

Rick looks to Daryl for approval, and he nods, not seeing any better alternative.

“Let’s do it,” Rick says. Without another word, Glenn puts his full weight on the door, wincing when it starts clanging wildly against his back as the walkers grow frantic the closer they all get. Glenn takes a deep breath and gives Rick the go-ahead.

It takes Rick five solid hits with his gun to break the padlock, each thwap against the metal exciting the walkers more and more. The second the lock is broken Rick takes hold of the chain, yanks it out, and then throws himself at the door beside Glenn to take control over the onslaught. 

Daryl and Michonne are poised and ready, their weapons raised. Carefully, Rick and Glenn work together to allow the door to open just wide enough to let a walker through. The monster charges at Daryl, and then falls with a thud a moment later when Daryl sends a bolt straight through its forehead.

They continue in this fashion for a few minutes, but each time more walkers push through. Rick and Glenn start sweating, their faces contorted into grimaces as the strain takes its toll.

“It’s not gonna hold,” Rick shouts suddenly, and not a moment later does a group of persistent walkers overpower him and Glenn. They shove the door all the way open and start coming out in droves.

There’s no time to think. The four of them fall into action, Rick pulling the trigger on his gun, and Glenn managing to get a blade through a couple skulls. Daryl and Michonne still take down the most. The load time on the crossbow isn’t fast enough, so Daryl unsheathes his own knife, driving it into a walker limping right at him. With his blade still in the walker’s head, Daryl reaches down to yank his bolt out of one of the ones he killed, and he slams the end of the arrow through the eye of another walker coming up behind him.

“Fuck!” Daryl hears Glenn yell. He spins around to see a walker decked out in full guard armor fighting bodily with Glenn. Surrounded by walkers himself, Daryl can do nothing to help as Glenn and the guard walker tumble to the ground.

Keeping Glenn in his periphery, Daryl watches as his friend takes hold of the guard walker’s throat and then shoves his knife up the opening of the shielded helmet it's wearing. Daryl’s stomach sours as he thinks about just how close his friend’s wrist is to a pair of venomous teeth.

With Michonne’s help, he clears his area, and lets her go assist Rick with the last few as he sprints over to Glenn, who is struggling to shove the dead weight of a full-grown man off of him. Daryl takes hold of the guard walker’s shoulders and lifts him up high enough for Glenn to wiggle free. Daryl drops the guard walker carelessly and tugs Glenn up roughly by the hand.

“You bit?” he asks hurriedly. He starts examining the skin of Glenn’s dominant arm, struggling to tell if any of the blood is his or not.

“No,” Glenn says. He’s heaving, completely out of breath. “Close, but no.”

Daryl nods, breathing a sigh of relief, and then punches Glenn in the shoulder.

“The hell was that for?” Glenn asks, frowning and rubbing the spot where Daryl hit him.

“Don’t scare me like that, dumbass,” Daryl says. “Christ.”

Glenn’s face softens as he nods, and together the two of them turn to survey the damage. Michonne is taking down the last walker, and the four of them are surrounded by a slaughter scene so gruesome it could have been plucked from any horror movie.

“We’ll move the bodies later,” Ricks says. He wipes sweat off his forehead, only to leave a smear of blood behind. “Let’s finish what we came here to do, first.” 

Daryl expects the inside of the prison to be just as bad, but as they walk down the corridor they only encounter a few stragglers. Likely, there are more deeper inside the prison, but they don’t have to go that far to reach the first cell block. There, however, they’re met with a different sort of problem.

“This just feels inhumane,” Michonne says quietly, voicing what they’re all thinking.

Rick had been right when he’d said anyone still locked up wouldn’t have been able to survive this long without water. Daryl had hoped that what Jenner told Jesse hadn’t been true, and Beth had simply been a fluke, but he’s faced with the evidence to back up Jenner’s claim now as he goes past a row of cells, each one filled with at least one walker. 

How terrible their last few days must have been? Hoping they hadn’t been abandoned, until it became clear that they had.

It’s like taking down the walkers in the prison yard the day before—simple, in that all they have to do is lure them to the bars of the cells and then take them down with a knife, but emotionally? The toll is much bigger.

It’s that wasted potential again, Daryl thinks, as the sound of walker snarls echoing against the concrete walls starts to quiet down. That wasted potential, and the tangible proof of the inhumanity people are capable of when it comes down to saving their own hides. 

*

The rest of the group helps to move the bodies into a pile in the yard. They’ll have to burn them if they’re going to want to avoid the rotting smell getting worse, but Daryl can’t think about that right now.

Instead, he focuses on getting his son situated on a cot in one of the cells. The little boy shivers even as sweat beads along his hairline, and his usual chatter is subdued into mumbled one or two word responses. Before letting him fall back asleep, Carol forces him to take another dose of children’s Tylenol to keep the fever down, but it’s clear that whatever virus or infection raising hell in his tiny body is winning. 

“How’s he doing?” 

Carol and Daryl turn to see Glenn standing at the doorway to the cell. He’s still covered in dried blood, having had no time yet to get clean, but then, so is Daryl. He’s watching Jesse with a wary expression, and Daryl shakes his head.

“Not great,” he whispers. “Fever won’t break, and his cough keeps gettin’ worse.” He shuts his eyes and takes in a long breath, exhausted physically from his day, and exhausted mentally from the constant worry about both of his children. When he opens his eyes again, Glenn is nodding thoughtfully.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go find the infirmary.”

Carol frowns as Daryl protests, saying, “You can’t do that. We gotta map this place out ‘fore we go bustin’ in anywhere else. The place might be overrun deeper in. We gotta have a plan.”

“And you gotta get better meds for your son,” Glenn says simply. “He’s gonna get worse if we don’t do something, and we can’t go back to searching for Josie if we’re too busy trying to keep him alive. We can’t wait another day, dude, for both their sakes.” 

Glenn’s right, of course. Every passing second feels like that ticking countdown clock on the bomb he can’t see. But he’s not about to send his friend into a potential death trap. He says, “If anyone’s goin’ it’s me.”

“You can come, too. Hell, we’ll get a group. See who’s willing to give it a go.”

“Daryl—” Carol starts, but she’s interrupted by Jesse coughing in his sleep. She deflates and doesn’t protest further. Glenn looks at Daryl expectantly.

“Fuck me,” Daryl mutters, rubbing his temples. God, he’s tired.

“You can stay or you can come with, but I’m going either way,” Glenn says, more confident than Daryl has ever seen him be.

“You almost died this mornin’,” Daryl reminds him.

“But I didn’t. Now, are you coming or not?” 

Daryl glances at Jesse’s pale face and it’s all the motivation he needs. He casts Carol an apologetic look before turning back to Glenn and nodding.

“Alright,” Glenn says resolutely. “We’re going back in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz this one is a couple days late. i ended up having to find a way to break it up into two parts bc it was turning into a mammoth of a chapter, and that took some finagling, and also i screwed up my sleep schedule and perpetually do things at the last minute. whatever, point is, sorry, but here she is, and the next update should be up on 10/18. if i'm ever running late with a chapter, btw, i usually make a post about it on my blog (waynedunlaptheorgandonor.tumblr.com). jsyk
> 
> no in memoriam for two chapters in a row! you're welcome! i'm sure nothing bad will happen soon!
> 
> bye! :)
> 
> -diz


	17. Tall Blocks

Merle used to harass Daryl about joining the Marines; said it’d make a man out of him, but Daryl couldn’t have been less interested if he tried. Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to be constantly told what to do, he most of all didn’t relish the idea of going to war. Even if it wasn’t a guarantee, he didn’t want the possibility of being sent off to the frontlines looming over him. He imagined it’d be a constant dread droning on and on in the back of his mind, and he was just fine without it.

Today he feels like he’s at war, and it’s every bit as terrible as he predicted it would be. It’s funny, in the bitterest of ways, how despite every time he told his brother to stick his recruitment attempts where the sun don’t shine, he was still destined to end up here.

It’s a cruel joke, and Daryl isn’t laughing.

When Glenn makes his proposal about going back in to get medicine for Jesse nobody needs much convincing, which Daryl finds humbling. How willing all his friends are to put themselves at risk for the sake of his son is overwhelming. Jesus and Aaron volunteer to be part of the group before they’re even asked, as if they hadn’t already done enough in seeking Daryl and Carol out with news about Josie. They have no obligation to them—have hardly seen them since high school—but here they are gearing up for a war that isn’t theirs, and Daryl has been feeling disillusioned about the state of humanity these last few days, and it’s a breath of fresh air to be reminded that the bad eggs among them haven’t spoiled the good just yet.

That being said, he declines Jesus and Aaron’s offer and instead asks them for an even bigger favor.

“Right this minute I gotta take care of my son, because he can’t wait,” he tells them. “But neither can my daughter. No one’s been out there lookin’ for her in over a day, and who knows how far that woman could have taken her in that amount of time. I’d never ask y’all to go raid their camp alone or nothin’, but while it’s still daylight do you think y’all could walk the road and look for clues? I can show you on the map where I found the sock she left. I’m sorry. I know it’s a big ask, and—”

“We’re on it, Daryl,” Aaron says with a gentle smile before Daryl can get his whole apology out. He squeezes Daryl’s shoulder and nods at Jesus, who is already pulling out a map and spreading it out. 

Once the two of them are sent on their way it’s quickly determined that the same group that cleared the first part of the prison will be the one that will be going in deeper. Carol is staying behind with Jesse, Rachel with Ryan, Hershel is still not operating at full capacity, and everyone agrees it’s smart to have Maggie stay too. She’s a good shot and any extra protection the kids get the better.

That leaves Rick, Glenn, Michonne, and Daryl on the frontlines.

“We’ll draw less attention to ourselves with fewer of us,” Daryl says to Carol when he sees her struggling with him leaving again. “And we got this cell block cleared no problem. We ain’t clearin’ the whole prison, we’re just findin’ the infirmary and then gettin’ the hell outta dodge, alright?” 

Standing halfway in and halfway out of their cell, Carol puts on a brave face and nods.

“Don’t press your luck,” she says. “If it seems too difficult then come back and work out a plan B. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.” Daryl’s eyes flit over to the small lump on the bed where Jesse is buried under a pile of blankets, and Carol must hear his thoughts, because she puts a warm hand on his cheek and reminds him in a whisper, “Put your oxygen mask on first.” 

Chewing on his lip, Daryl relents, ducking down to steal a kiss from her as a silent promise to be careful.

“You ready?” Glenn asks from behind him. Daryl looks and finds his friend examining the blade of his own knife. Realizing he’s being watched, Glenn shoves the knife back into the makeshift holster Daryl had helped him make after the incident at the dollar store when the knife hadn’t been within easy reach. He fumbles a little, not getting it in all the way at first, and another time Daryl would have teased him with some crass innuendo to make him flip him the bird, but he can tell by Glenn’s body language that he’s trying to force himself to be confident, even if inside he’s scared shitless. It’s clear that he doesn’t want anyone—but Daryl especially—to think he’s not capable of helping his family; of helping Jesse. And Daryl would never make fun of him for that.

“Yeah, gimme just a sec,” Daryl says. He gestures inside the cell and Glenn nods in understanding.

Daryl slips into the cell past Carol and goes over to the bunk that, despite being cramped and small, makes Jesse look tiny. He expects Jesse to be asleep—because generally if he isn’t then he’s talking and it’s hard not to notice—but the young boy is awake when Daryl peers down at him. He’s snuggled up under the blankets, his whole body engulfed except for his face and his left hand, which he’s inspecting with a furrowed brow.

“What’s the matter?” Daryl asks. Jesse blinks up, surprised, as if he hadn’t heard his dad approach.

“My hand hurts,” Jesse says, voice croaky and faded. Frowning, Daryl takes a seat on the edge of the bed, ducking his head in order to not bonk it on the top bunk, and takes his son’s hand in his.

“Don’t see no cuts or nothin’. Did you do somethin’ to it?” he asks, examining both sides of Jesse’s small hand. There’s some dirt caked under his nails that are a bit overgrown, but there are no bumps or bruises from what he can tell.

“No, I don’t think so,” says Jesse.

“Well, if it gets worse you tell your momma, okay?” He cocoons Jesse’s hand between his own and holds it tight.

“‘Kay.” Jesse pulls his hand back and snakes his arm under the blankets. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” The words are more sad than accusatory, which is worse.

“Only for a little while. And I ain’t even leavin’ this building. Me, your uncles, and Auntie Michonne just gotta run one more errand, alright?”

“Is it to get me medicine? That’s what you and momma and Uncle Glenn was saying.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s one of the things we’re lookin’ for. We wanna get you better.”

“I think I’ll be better without medicine, so probably it’s okay if you stay.” It doesn’t help his case that he can hardly get the words out. Daryl smiles warmly at him, stroking his soft, feverish cheek. 

“Try not to worry, kid. I shouldn’t be gone that long, and hopefully we’ll find somethin’ to make that cough of yours go away, and then you can be your usual chatterbox self again.”

“Okay,” Jesse says solemnly, not even a hint of a smile on his lips. When was the last time Daryl saw Jesse smile? Usually it’s his default expression.

“Hey,” he says, placing a finger under Jesse’s chin and lifting it gently to meet his son’s eye. “How’re you feelin’, huh? And I don’t just mean the slugs. I know those gotta be makin’ you feel real yucky, but what about the rest o’ you? How’s the belly? Full of watermelons? Lightning?” 

“Mm, not exactly.”

“What, then?”

Jesse twists his mouth, thinking hard. Finally, he says, “My blocks are too tall.”

“Come again?” Daryl asks, biting back a smile at yet another bizarre metaphor.

“My blocks are too tall. Like how sometimes I will make my blocks go on top of each other real high, but then they get all wobbly?”

“Like right before they fall over, you mean?”

“Yeah. My blocks are too tall and are maybe gonna fall over.”

“I get it,” Daryl says, because he does. 

“Is there a word for tall blocks?”

“How do you mean?”

“Like how lightning is called anxiety. Do tall blocks have a name, too?”

“Yeah,” comes Carol’s voice from the doorway where Daryl didn’t know she was listening. She looks Daryl right in the eye as she answers, “Dread.” 

*

_ (4:51p) ~we have to digest a friend in bisexuality class tomorrow.~ _

_ (4:52p) -literally wut?- _

_ (4:52p) >Gonna go out on a limb here and guess that most of that sentence was autocorrect.< _

_ (4:53p) ~*dissect a friend in biology class.~ _

_ (4:53p) ~not friend. frog.~ _

_ (4:54p) >Unless the frog is your friend.< _

_ (4:54p) -mb u gotta become its friend first- _

_ (4:56p) ~that would be exceptionally cruel. but no, i think they're just normal frogs, not friend frogs.~ _

_ (4:56p) ~still not looking forward to it, though.~ _

_ (4:58p) >You squeamish?< _

_ (5:01p) ~i didn't think so, but the more i think about it the more i'm like... nah. i prefer the inside stuff to stay inside, thank you very much.~ _

_ (5:01p) ~also the poor frog. :( ~ _

_ (5:02p) -ya but its gna b dead whether ur cutting it open or not so like u mite as well get the easy a- _

_ (5:03p) ~easy for you maybe. you're used to slicing and dicing cute animals.~ _

_ (5:05p) -lmao u make me sound like a psychopath- _

_ (5:05p) -i eat the things i slice n dice- _

_ (5:05p) -i dnt just do it 4 fun- _

_ (5:06p) >Still more slicing and dicing than we're used to. I took biology last year and it was gross but not that bad. Didn't make me want to go stick my hands in more guts or anything, but I survived.< _

_ (5:06p) >The frog didn't, but you know.< _

_ (5:07p) -tht was like the 1 thing i passed real easy in tht damn class- _

_ (5:08p) ~maybe you /are/ a secret serial killer…~ _

_ (5:09p) >He's been among us this whole time and we didn't even notice.< _

_ (5:09p) ~he hides in plain sight.~ _

_ (5:10p) -yep u got me- _

_ (5:10p) -2 bad bc next game nite i was gna cut u up into lil pieces but u had 2 go n ruin it- _

_ (5:12p) ~can't say i'm super apologetic about that one, bro, sorry.~ _

_ (5:12p) >Yeah, looks like you're gonna have to find someone else to murder. Maybe Carol? I doubt she suspects.< _

_ (5:13p) ~he couldn't kill carol, he'd get too flustered by how pretty she is and would drop his knife.~ _

_ (5:14p) -ha ha- _

_ (5:14p) -i changed my mind i am gna cut u guys up- _

_ (5:16p) >Damn.< _

_ (5:18p) ~at least he's giving us a head start.~ _

_ (5:19p) ~we better get running while he sharpens his knives on his whetstone.~ _

_ (5:20p) >Who knew our friendship would end in bloodshed.< _

_ (5:21p) ~ah well, it was nice while it lasted.~ _

_ (5:22p) -lmao- _

_ (5:22p) -idiots- _

*

The vacant, hollow halls of the prison would be creepy enough on their own without nothing but cheap flashlights for light and the constant threat of death.

And yet.

Daryl would kill for a schematic of the prison layout. Every turn they make they’re making blind, and the longer they wander the bigger the chance is that they’ll run into trouble. Michonne has already taken down a walker that had come barrelling at them from around a corner. Daryl doesn’t want to make the wrong turn that leads them into more than they can handle if he can help it.

Which is why, when the four of them walk quietly as if on tip-toe past an office that has tinted glass with  _ WARDEN _ painted on it, Daryl flags his friends down with a wave of the hand, making them come to a halt.

“What is it?” Rick whispers.

“That’s the warden’s office,” Daryl explains. “Bet you he’s got a map of the place, and maybe a set of keys.”

“Sounds worth the detour to me,” Glenn says, looking at Rick and waiting for him to give his approval.

“Let’s do it,” he says. Daryl jumps right into action, crossing the hall and trying the handle to the office door. It’s locked.

“Can you pick it?” Michonne asks when she and the others come up beside him. Daryl eyes it over and shakes his head.

“It’s a keycode lock,” he says, pointing to the number pad. “Merle told me how to disable ‘em once, but I was little and I don’t remember real well. Don’t wanna accidentally set off an alarm or somethin’.”

“Then what do you suggest?” asks Rick.

Daryl drums his fingers against his thigh and considers the options.

“‘Kay, this might end up bein’ a shitty idea, so Glenn, Michonne, I need y’all to be ready in case somethin’ comes our way, and Rick, you cover me, alright?”

“Tell us what the shitty plan is first,” Glenn suggests. In response, Daryl tugs his handkerchief out of his pocket and wraps it around his closed fist.

“Oh, are you gonna give the door a black eye, too?” Rick jokes. Daryl scowls at him, making him laugh, the bruise high up on his cheekbone just visible in the dim light. “I’m kidding. You’re gonna break the glass?”

“Yeah, and hopefully one big crash won’t draw walkers in like an alarm would, but just in case stay on your toes. And I dunno if the warden is still in his office. Be ready for that, too.”

He waits until all the others indicate that they understand, and then slams his shielded fist as hard as he can through the tinted window. The glass is thick, and even with the handkerchief protecting him Daryl feels a blunt pain on impact, but with a shatter the whole thing falls apart, shards of various sizes raining onto the ground.

He stills. They all do—the silence is suddenly louder following the crash—but no sounds come from the hall. Emboldened, Daryl reaches through the broken window and takes hold of the knob on the inside, turning it until the door clicks open.

The second he steps in, Daryl can hear a rattling and a low growl. He raises his crossbow and holds a hand up to the others as he creeps around to the other side of the desk to investigate.

The growls grow louder and more frantic when the walker and Daryl face each other. But it seems the walker is at a disadvantage, as its wrists are handcuffed around the leg of the heavy, mahogany desk that it wouldn’t be able to move no matter how hard it tried. It snarls and snaps its teeth at Daryl, but poses no real threat from its spot on the ground.

“What’s written on its face?” Glenn asks quietly when he and the other two join Daryl. Furrowing his brow, Daryl steps closer and squats down so that he’s eye level with the walker. The walker goes wild and Daryl ignores it as he squints, trying to make out the word written in fading permanent marker on its forehead.

“Pig,” he says when he deciphers it. He inspects the walker up and down and realizes it’s in uniform, and a nice one at that. Daryl stands back up, knees popping. “Think it’s the warden himself. Must not have been too popular around here if this is how they left him. Man, Merle would have loved this.” He snorts, and Rick elbows him in the side hard.

“Dude,” Rick says.

“Right, sorry. Forgot. Old habits and all that.” He aims his crossbow and lets a bolt fly right through the dot of the “i” in pig, silencing the warden’s snarls for good.  _ That one was for you, Merle, _ Daryl thinks privately.

They proceed to tear the place apart.

Daryl finds a ring of keys on the warden, as well as a pistol with three rounds left in it. He wonders idly who he’d shot at, and if the man had gone down swinging, or had surrendered before being chained up in his own office. Patting down the rest of the warden’s pockets, Daryl finds two cherry cough drops, a pack of smokes, and a lighter. He puts it all in the knapsack he has slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t intend to smoke the cigarettes, but maybe they could serve some other purpose. (And maybe the addict in him just can’t let himself leave a perfectly good pack of smokes on a dead body, even if they never get used.)

“Found a map,” Glenn says then. They crowd around him as he lays it flat on the table. It’s a fire safety map used to highlight all the emergency exits, but all the areas are labelled so it serves its purpose.

“We’re not far off,” Glenn says. He points at the place on the map labelled  _ Warden’s Office _ and then traces his finger to an area labelled  _ Infirmary _ . “It’s down the hall and to the left. We don’t even have to go through any other cell blocks. And look, the cafeteria is right behind it. We can clear out the infirmary and then tomorrow whoever’s not out searching can check and see if it’s safe to go and look for food.” 

“Let’s get this done, then,” Daryl says. He plucks a package of cheese crackers out of an open drawer and tosses it in his bag before nodding towards the door. Glenn rolls up the map and sticks it in his back pocket, while Rick and Michonne gather up their findings, and they set out once again, glass crunching under their shoes as they go. 

On the way they’re startled by several thudding sounds and find that a room labelled  _ Officer’s Quarters _ has two or three human-shaped outlines banging on the mostly opaque door. For a moment the four of them pause, silently asking each other if they should stop and clear it, until Daryl points out that somebody already chained the door shut and padlocked it for good measure. It can wait.

It doesn’t take long after that for them to reach the door that has a chipped Red Cross symbol painted on it. Like the warden’s office, the door is locked, but this time there’s no keycode. Daryl reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the paperclips he snagged from the warden’s desk for this exact purpose. He unfurls it with his teeth, and his friends keep watch as he picks the lock, his skills rusty having lived a moderately crime-free adulthood. And childhood, depending on who you compared him to.

“There,” he grunts when he finally gets it open. He puts a hand on the knob and looks at Rick expectantly. Rick answers him by raising his knife with his right hand, and keeping his left sitting on his hip where he keeps his pistol. Getting the idea, Michonne and Glenn ready themselves, too. Daryl holds up three fingers and counts down silently— _ one, two, three _ —and then throws the door open.

They are instantly accosted by a heavy walker who goes for Rick and pushes him with its full weight, slamming the both of them against the far wall. Daryl runs up behind the walker trying to take a bite out of Rick’s face and grabs his own knife, driving the blade into the fleshy fat roll at the base of its head and clear through its skull. When he yanks it out the walker falls to the ground as dead weight, and Daryl helps Rick straighten himself up.

Carefully, they make their way inside the infirmary, and they all grimace, covering their noses at the smell. The cause of the odor becomes clear when they get all the way in and see a few cots in two short rows all holding a different dead man.

“They’ve all already been taken out,” Michonne says as she approaches one of the bodies and examines it.

“Gunshots,” Rick says as he conducts his own investigation, and Daryl nods in agreement, eyeing the crusty, blackish hole on the head of the man closest to him. His pillow and sheets are drenched in old blood. Someone shot him in bed. Daryl gets closer and sees that the man’s arms and legs are strapped down with security restraints.

“They’re all tied up,” Glenn says, noticing the same thing. “Are they bit?”

Daryl hesitates a beat before stepping up beside the bed and getting a better look at the body. The corpse is stiff with rigor, its skin bloated and discolored, and in spite of everything he’s seen, pure, unadulterated death still tugs on that mental string that can only be pulled by things like this. The Mortality String. He never wants to become a walker, but as he looks at the decomposing body in front of him he wishes there was a third option.

“These ones are,” Rick says before Daryl can get his wits about him to answer the question. “This guy has a bite on the neck, and this one on the shoulder.” 

Daryl steers himself away from an impending existential crisis and focuses instead on the details of the body. There doesn't seem to be any obvious bites on the head or torso. Taking a tentative hold of the bloody sheet draped over the corpse, he pulls it back and lets out a soft noise of surprise and disgust.

“What the fuck?” Glenn asks, coming to see what has Daryl rattled.

“They chopped his leg off,” Michonne says vacantly. “Why?”

“Maybe that’s where he was bit,” Daryl says quietly.

“And they tried to remove it before it could infect him?” Rick asks.

“Fat load of help that did him,” Michonne says, staring pointedly at the gunshot wound on the man’s head.

“Maybe it did work,” Glenn suggests.

“Nah, he turned, man,” says Daryl.

“Yeah, but when?” Glenn argues. “If we’re all infected, then maybe they took his leg and stopped the bite from spreading, but then he died from blood loss or something, and then turned when he was dead.”

“Guess it’s possible,” Daryl mutters, doubtful.

“Well, unless one of you wants to perform an autopsy to determine cause of death, I suggest we leave it a mystery and do what we came here to do,” Michonne says, slipping her bag off her shoulder and going over to start scanning shelves. 

Rick, Glenn, and Daryl all exchange a look, agreeing in unison that Michonne’s right, and they join her.

After a superficial sweep of the place Daryl has found a forehead thermometer, quite a few bandaids, a lot of gauze, an industrial sized tube of antibacterial cream, gloves, masks, and a few other first aid items they didn’t feel the need to keep locked up from prisoners. He gathers it all, but it’s not what he’s looking for. None of it will help Jesse.

“Y’all find anythin’ good?” Daryl asks after clearing a drawer full of individually wrapped antiseptic wipes.

“I think I found where they keep the over-the-counter drugs,” Rick says from across the room. Daryl goes over to see the locked, glass cabinet Rick is looking at. It’s full of ibuprofen, acetaminophen, TUMS, Benadryl, and a bunch of other drugs that two weeks ago Daryl would just walk to the neighborhood pharmacy to get.

“There’s no key,” Rick says.

“Move,” Daryl grunts, and Rick is barely out of the way before the glass is being shattered with the butt of Daryl’s crossbow. He gestures at the mess and says to Rick, “Found the key.”

“Right,” Rick says with a huff. He starts grabbing bottles at will, and Daryl does another lap around the place, checking and rechecking drawers, growing more frustrated with each passing second when he doesn’t find anything of use. Maybe there’s an over-the-counter drug that will break up the crap in Jesse’s chest, he thinks helplessly when he shuffles through a pile of pamphlets about the importance of regular prostate exams. 

“I think the good stuff is back there,” Glenn says a minute later. Daryl, who is about to chuck a stress ball at the wall and see if it really does make him calmer, pauses and turns to see what Glenn is pointing at. All he sees is a closed door with a chair propped under the knob, so he casts Glenn a raised eyebrow and waits for him to explain.

“There’s a log sheet next to the door, see?” Glenn says. He goes and lifts a clipboard off a nail in the wall and flips through it before handing it to Daryl. Daryl flips to a random page and takes a look.

_ NAME: Baker, Eric _

_ MEDICATION: Alprazolam _

_ DOSAGE: .25mg _

_ FREQUENCY: BID _

_ INITIALS: GK _

_ WITNESS: MCF _

“So it’s a log sheet. What of it?”

“My guess is that’s a list of prisoners who received prescriptions, and the log sheet is how they kept track of them. I bet they’re kept in there.” He nods at the closed door.

“Okay, but what’s with the chair?” Michonne asks. “I doubt they put that there because they ran out of space at the kitchen table.” 

“Maybe there’s a walker in there,” Glenn says with a shrug. “If it’s a medicine closet it can’t be all that big, right? Could only fit one or two, max. We can handle that. We’ve been lucky so far.”

They have been, and Daryl recalls then Carol’s very specific request in regards to pressing his luck.

“We could wait ‘til Jesus and Aaron get back and tackle it together with the extra manpower,” he suggests. Glenn looks at him like he’s sprouted a unicorn horn.

“Dude, they probably got antibiotics in there, and maybe an inhaler. It’s a big prison. At least one of them had to have had asthma, right? We came all this way to find something to help Jesse, and now you just want to come back later when we’re right here?”

“I respect your caution, brother, but if we can handle an entire cell block we can handle a medicine closet,” Rick says. Daryl worries his lower lip between his teeth and says nothing.

“What is it, Daryl?” Michonne asks, frowning at him. He doesn’t know how to answer. Objectively, he knows they’re right. He punched his fist through a door with no idea what was on the other side only a half hour ago. But still, something’s off, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words. It feels like...like…

“My blocks are too tall,” he mutters.

“What?” Rick asks, scrunching his forehead. Daryl opens his mouth to explain, but instead lets out a big breath and shakes his head.

“Nothin’. Nothin’, y’all are right. What we need is pro’ly in there. Just...let’s just be real careful, okay?”

“Always,” Rick assures him, clapping him on the back. Daryl tries to smile at him but it falls flat. 

“Glenn, why don’t you pull that chair out and then open the door nice and slow and we’ll do how we did out at the prison entrance,” Daryl says, casting a look at Rick, who nods his approval.

Daryl arms his crossbow and aims it directly at the door, his whole body tense. Michonne and Rick ready themselves on either side of him and they wait.

Glenn shimmies the chair out from underneath the door knob, and Daryl knows what’s about to happen a second before it does. The door was being kept shut by the chair because the lock is no good, and now without it whatever’s inside starts throwing themselves against the solid surface, the knob twisting from the inside. Before Glenn can even get a hand on it the door bursts open and a whole swarm of starving walkers charge.

“Fuck,” Rick mutters, gripping his knife tighter. Daryl lets his arrow fly and takes down one of them, but the rest keep coming. It’s as if someone has crammed as many walkers as possible into that tiny closet. He tries to see how many there are, or where they’re all coming from, but he’s preoccupied making sure the walker closing in on him doesn’t take a chunk out of his neck.

“How are they still coming?” Michonne asks over the sound of battle.

“This closet’s connected to another room,” Glenn says, downing a walker and then taking a peek inside before the next one plows its way through. “Another part of the infirmary, I think. Maybe that’s where the people who first got sick went.”

“Oh good, well that would explain it,” Michonne deadpans while slicing a walker’s head in half. Next to her, Rick gets his knife stuck just as a walker closes in on him and he’s forced to draw his gun, shooting the walker from underneath its chin and taking half of its face off. 

“Glenn, close that damn door!” he commands.

“No, we haven’t gotten the medicine yet,” Glenn protests.

“We know where it is, we can come back,” Rick says.

“There will still be walkers later, and that kid is sick  _ now _ .” 

“We’ll figure something else out,” Daryl says. Glenn rips his blade out of another walker and then casts Daryl a truly bitter glare.

“I’m doing this,” he says, and then snatches up the chair off the ground and holds it in front of himself like a shield. He positions himself against the stream of walkers and charges them like a linebacker.

“For fuck’s sake, they’ll trample him,” Rick says, but Dary is already running. Rick and Michonne help too, and they put all their body weight into shoving the walkers into the medicine cabinet and through the other door.

“We can’t close off the other side,” Michonne says in a strained voice. “We can’t reach the door handle.” 

“Then help me hold them off while one of you clears the shelves,” Glenn demands.

“Dude, we don’t got much time here, there’s more of them than us,” Daryl says, blinking sweat out of his eyes. Huffing, Glenn abruptly breaks himself out of formation, making Daryl grunt with the added force needed to keep the walkers at bay. In a manic frenzy, Glenn starts shoving bottles and boxes haphazardly into a bag until everything, except the narcotics, amphetamines, and benzodiazepines stowed away in their own lock boxes, is cleaned off the shelves.

“Okay, let’s move,” Glenn says. Together they back up slowly, steeling themselves so as to not get overtaken, until they’re on the other side of their door.

“Michonne, Glenn, you two go get set to shut the door, and me and Rick’ll keep as many back as we can.”

Without argument, Glenn and Michonne do as they’re told and drop out to brace the door. Using adrenaline and every ounce of body strength, Daryl helps Rick keep the crowd of walkers inside the medicine closet as the other two try to close it.

“We’re going to let the chair drop now, get ready to throw your whole weight into it to keep them from busting out,” Rick warns when they’ve almost got it secured shut. “Daryl, on three. One, two, three!” Rick rushes over to help Glenn and Michonne as Daryl readies the chair to be slipped under the door knob again.

“Any time, brother,” Rick grunts, the swarm doing its best to get through.

“Almost got it,” Daryl says, fumbling with the chair as one of the walkers keeps its face in the doorway. “If this fucker would just back the fuck up.” 

“I can push him back,” Glenn says. Michonne and Rick give him the go-ahead, and Glenn slips down in between the door and the chair and pops back up on Daryl’s other side.

“Shit,” Daryl says when he’s knocked back a step, the walker in the doorway getting the upper hand. “Glenn, he’s gonna get through, grab your knife.”

Panicked, Glenn reaches to his knife holster and tries pulling it out in one fell swoop, but it gets stuck. This three second error is just enough time for the doorway walker to break free and rush at him. Glenn gets a grip on his knife and yanks it up, leaving his forearm open and vulnerable to the doorway walker, who sinks its teeth into his flesh. His knife clatters to the floor.

“Glenn!” Rick and Michonne scream, as a cold chill runs down Daryl’s spine. In a millisecond, he gets the chair in place, snatches Glenn’s knife off the ground, and rams it into the doorway walker’s skull. When it goes limp Daryl tosses it aside carelessly and goes immediately to Glenn. He takes a rough hold of Glenn’s arm, hoping that he hadn’t seen what he knows he saw, but there on his forearm is a chunk of meat missing in the shape of a giant bite.

“Is he bit?” Michonne says, rushing over. She gasps when she sees the wound that’s gushing dark, red blood.

“Daryl,” Rick says, suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You have to cut his arm off.”

Daryl lets go of Glenn involuntarily and gapes at Rick.

“What?” he manages to ask. Rick impatiently points at the cots full of corpses, and Daryl realizes he’s referring to the one with the missing leg. He starts shaking his head slowly.

“It didn’t work. It doesn’t work.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Glenn said so himself.”

“But what if it don’t do shit except hurt him more?”

“If you don’t try then he dies for certain.”

“Why  _ me _ ?” 

“Because you’re the one here who knows how best to cut through muscle and bone.”

“Yeah, if he was a fucking  _ deer _ .”

“It’s the same thing, brother. At its fundamentals it’s the same thing.”

“No it ain’t,” Daryl whispers, feeling faint. “No the hell it ain’t.”

“Rick, you’re asking a lot here—” Michonne starts.

“It’s the only chance we have of saving his life,” Rick snaps. He looks at Daryl expectantly, who is floundering.

“Daryl.”

Daryl turns his head abruptly and comes face-to-face with Glenn. He’s pale as a ghost and shaking, but his voice is steady and sure when he says, “Do it.”

Daryl searches his friend’s eyes for a long moment before taking a deep breath, shutting his thoughts off, and jumping into action.

“‘Kay, Rick, lay Glenn down on that empty cot right there, and then I’ll need your belt. Michonne, I need yours too.” While they follow his orders, Daryl drops his knapsack and digs inside it for antiseptic wipes and rubbing alcohol. He rips a wipe package open with his front teeth, and then unsheathes his bloody knife. He wipes it clean as possible and then pours rubbing alcohol on it for good measure.

He hurries over to the cot where Glenn is bleeding all over the white sheets and grimacing in pain. Daryl forces himself not to watch his face, and instead asks for one of the belts. Michonne hands him hers, and he wraps it around Glenn’s arm, just above the elbow, and tightens it so tight that Glenn lets out a shout.

“Sorry,” Daryl mutters, even as he pulls it tighter. “Rick, your belt, is it clean? Does it got any blood on it?”

“Um, not really. Just a little.”

“Grab one of them disinfectant wipes and clean it off, and then put it in his mouth.”

“His mouth?” Rick asks.

“Yeah, unless you want to try stitchin’ a tongue back together, now hurry the fuck up,” Daryl snaps, and Rick is back on his game. He returns and tries to place the belt in Glenn’s mouth, but he turns his head.

“Real fast,” he says, voice strained. “If this doesn’t...tell Maggie I love her and that if she finds someone else that’s okay, but at least be sad for like, three months minimum. And like...Team Groupchat forever, right?”

“Right,” Rick whispers, squeezing Glenn’s good hand. Daryl can’t speak and so he nods. This time Glenn lets Rick put the belt in his mouth. He takes a shaky breath and looks at Daryl with a steeled expression despite his trembling. 

Before raising his knife, Daryl whispers, “I am  _ so _ sorry,” and Glenn nods in understanding. 

When Daryl lifts up the knife and brings it back down he thinks about the first time Merle taught him how to skin a deer. Their daddy had bitched that they’d caught a buck with no damn meat on it, so it was up to them to waste their time cleaning it. Merle had been uncharacteristically gentle, explaining not just the actions, but the purposes of every part Daryl cut. By the end, Daryl felt a sort of reverence for the animal; a respect for what it had been and a gratefulness for what it provided. And ever since that lesson, Daryl has never put a blade to another’s flesh without honorable intent.

As Glenn’s muffled screams fill the room in response to Daryl’s knife slicing through muscle, tendon, bone—all the things that have been there keeping the arm alive since birth—Daryl sincerely hopes his intent is honorable, because it doesn’t feel that way. No, when the arm comes free from the body it was never meant to part from, and Glenn falls unconscious as they hold his bleeding stump high above his heart, it doesn’t feel very honorable at all.

*

Daryl doesn’t remember getting back to the cell block, but he’s here somehow anyway.

He hears Rick’s voice saying, “Hershel, I know you’re hurting, man, but this kid needs your help and it can’t wait.”

He hears Maggie screaming in that terrified way you only ever do when a person you love is in danger.

He’s vaguely aware of dry-heaving with one hand keeping himself propped against the concrete wall.

Then he’s being engulfed in familiar arms, and all at once he returns, Carol’s touch sending him catapulting back to reality.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Glenn? Baby, you’re  _ covered _ in blood.”

He doesn’t have the strength to answer her. Instead, he sinks to his knees and buries his face in her belly. It’s been six years, but no matter what she does, Carol hasn’t been able to get rid of that little extra softness to her stomach from carrying the twins. Daryl revels in it now, wondering if this incredible woman who has literally created human bodies can ease some of the guilt he feels at disfiguring someone else’s. He sobs into the cotton of her t-shirt as she pets his hair and tells him it’s gonna be alright.

He’s not sure he believes her, but it helps to hear it anyway.

*

_ (2:17p) -help- _

_ (2:19p) *What's wrong?* _

_ (2:20p) -jj poured dog food in the toilet after me tellin him not 2 n ur not here 2 put him in time out n im so bad @ punishing him- _

_ (2:21p) *Oh for Christ's sake.* _

_ (2:21p) *You're a disaster. I don't get why it's so hard for you to punish Jesse. You can put Josie in time out just fine.* _

_ (2:22p) -thts cuz jojo gets angry n is mean abt it- _

_ (2:22p) -jj just gets sad- _

_ (2:23p) *Jesse is dramatic.* _

_ (2:24p) -hes sensitive- _

_ (2:25p) *Yes. And also dramatic. Don't let his tears get you. Think about all the dog food kibble you have to scoop out of the toilet.* _

_ (2:26p) -fine i'll do it but its gna b awful- _

_ (2:27p) *Stay strong, mon chéri.* _

_ (2:39p) -u have 2 quit college bc i cant do tht again- _

_ (2:43p) *Lmao, what happened? Did he put up a fight?* _

_ (2:44p) -no thts the problem- _

_ (2:44p) -he went 2 time out like he was goin 2 the electric chair n just cried silently the whole time- _

_ (2:44p) -n thn when it was over n i went 2 tlk 2 him abt wut happened he asked me if i still loved him ahdjakak- _

_ (2:45p) *Oh no.* _

_ (2:46p) -"do u still luv me daddy? i wont b bad no more promise"- _

_ (2:46p) -tf was i supposed to do with tht???- _

_ (2:46p) -i gotta put myself in time out 4 bein so mean 2 him- _

_ (2:49p) *God our son is such a bleeding heart.* _

_ (2:50p) -its terrible- _

_ (2:50p) -i banged my elbow on the table earlier n he went n got a bandaid from the bathroom n put it on me n kissed it better w/out me askin- _

_ (2:50p) -it wasnt bleeding n now i have a bandaid w/ lil puppies on my arm but it was so sweet i cudnt tell him i didnt need it- _

_ (2:52p) *That child's heart is bigger than his whole body.* _

_ (2:52p) *But also he's not supposed to put dog food in the toilet.* _

_ (2:53p) -r u sure we shudnt just let him do w/e he wants 4ever?- _

_ (2:55p) *Jfc.* _

_ (2:55p) *People say you and Josie are just alike.* _

_ (2:55p) *But they don't realize where Jesse gets his sappy feelings from. If only they knew how sensitive his daddy is.* _

_ (2:56p) -stfu im not sensitive im big n mean- _

_ (2:57p) *You're about as big and mean as a newborn kitten.* _

_ (2:57p) *But that's perfectly alright. I'm glad our son takes after you. Even if it does make time out difficult.* _

_ (3:02p) -just caught jojo tryna convince jj 2 put more kibble in the toilet- _

_ (3:02p) -shes so sneaky she takes after u- _

_ (3:03p) *Rude.* _

_ (3:04p) -our kids r such pains- _

_ (3:05p) *The worst. And I wouldn't give them up for anything.* _

_ (3:06p) -not 4 all the money in the world <3 - _

*

Daryl is awoken from a sleep he doesn’t remember falling into by the sound of frantic coughs and wheezing. When he realizes it’s Jesse he snaps his eyes open instantly and gets up from the mattress he moved from the top bunk onto the floor. Carol is on her feet just as quickly, and they both go to their son.

“Here, sit up and try to take deep breaths, sweet potato,” Carol says, heping Jesse into a sitting position and rubbing his back. His coughing doesn’t abate, and his attempts at sucking in air get more desperate the more frightened he becomes at not being able to breathe. Carol looks at Daryl helplessly.

“Hold on,” he says. He finds the two knapsacks he’d laid down by the door earlier—his and Glenn’s, both bloodstained. He tries not to think about that as he empties Glenn’s out on the ground and starts rifling through the miscellaneous drugs he almost—and might still—gave his life for. He searches and searches, reading tiny prescription labels, his son’s sharp breaths ringing in his ears the entire time, until he finds an inhaler. An unopened one, prescribed to an Alejandro Chavez. He tears the box open and holds it out to Carol like he’s presenting a precious jewel that might be stolen if he so much as blinks.

She takes it with just as much care and lifts it to Jesse’s lips. She helps him take a dose of medicine into his aching lungs. She and Daryl sit with him, holding onto him for dear life, until his breathing gets regulated again. When he can go more than five seconds without coughing Daryl gives him a half dose of cough syrup, smiling a little at the face he makes when he tastes it.

“Sorry, kid, the adult stuff don’t taste as good.”

“Here, momma’s gonna stack your pillows so you’re not on your back, okay? It’ll help you breathe better.”

Jesse nods and lies back, letting Daryl tuck the blankets in around him.

“Do you think you can get more sleep, or do you want us to sit and talk to you for a while until you get sleepy?” Carol asks.

Jesse rubs his nose, his eyes flitting between Carol and Daryl.

“I got a question,” he says in his raspy voice.

“Shoot,” Daryl says.

“Is it my fault Uncle Glenn got his arm cut off?”

“No,” Carol says resolutely.

“Not even a lil’ bit.”

“If Uncle Glenn dies then will it be my fault?”

Sighing, Daryl leans over and presses a long kiss to Jesse’s forehead.

“No, baby boy,” he whispers. “Nothin’ that’s happened has been your fault.”

“But you guys went to go find medicine for me. If you didn’t do that then Uncle Glenn would be okay.”

“You know why your Uncle Glenn went to go get medicine for you today even though it was dangerous?” Daryl asks, and Jesse shakes his head. “It’s ‘cause he loves you, and you bein’ safe means it’s worth it to be in danger sometimes if it’s to help you. But that don’t make it your fault, and I bet you anythin’ in this world that he’d be the first one to tell you that.”

Jesse considers this.

“I want him to be okay,” he says.

“So do we, sweet potato. And Mr. Hershel is taking care of him so that he hopefully will be.”

“I want Joey to be okay, too,” Jesse says, eyes welling up. “I don’t like it so much when she’s gone.” 

“None of us do, kid,” Daryl says softly. “And I’m sure she’s missin’ you, too, though she might pretend she’s not ‘cause she wouldn’t want you to catch her bein’ sweet.” Jesse almost smiles at that.

“Did Mr. Jesus and Mr. Aaron find anything?”

Carol and Daryl exchange a glance. Come nightfall the two hadn’t returned, and everyone is hoping they got held up and will be back in the morning, otherwise they’ll have two searches going.

“They might have, but they’re not back yet. They’re spending the night somewhere else,” Carol says. Jesse doesn’t appear to love this, but doesn’t question it further.

“I don’t feel too much like saying stuff right now, but if you want to say stuff to me that would be okay,” he informs the two of them, and they smile at him.

“Wanna hear about how daddy and momma met?” Carol asks. Jesse nods.

“The first thing I ever heard your momma say was a naughty word,” Daryl says in a stage whisper, winning him another almost-smile.

“Shush, you’re skipping ahead. You’re such a bad storyteller.”

“But did you really say a naughty word, momma?”

“More than one, if I remember right,” Daryl says, snorting when Carol smacks him on the arm.

“Yes, I may have said a few naughty words, but I  _ also _ spilled a milkshake on somebody, and if you wanna hear that part you gotta let me tell the dang story.”

Jesse makes a show of clamping his mouth shut and listens to his parents tell a story from a time that feels like a different world, until the medicine kicks in and sends him off to sleep.

*

Daryl wakes up again a few hours later and gets out of bed, shushing Carol gently when she starts to blink awake at his movement. He leaves the cell and raises his hands above his head in a stretch. There’s light coming in through the vaulted windows, and he wonders if he could get away with sneaking outside for fresh air. After the day he had yesterday, being trapped in a prison doesn’t sound especially appealing.

“Hey, Daryl,” someone whispers, and Daryl turns around to see Rick near the end of the hall beckoning him over. So much for a quiet, outdoor morning, he thinks.

“How’s Glenn?” is the first thing Daryl asks when he reaches Rick.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. He’s awake. Like, actually awake and not just in and out.”

Daryl raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Coherent, too. I was just talking to him.”

“No sign of fever?”

“No sign of fever, and Hershel made him start a course of antibiotics from one of the bottles he found.”

“Good thing he found ‘em, then. Though I guess if he hadn’t fought so hard to get ‘em he wouldn’t have needed ‘em in the first place.”

“Isn’t that just how it goes. Are you gonna go talk to him? He was asking about you, and about Jesse.”

“I dunno,” Daryl says with an awkward shrug that Rick sees right through.

“Daryl,” he says. “He doesn’t blame you. You saved his life.”

“I chopped off his arm.”

“Which saved his life. He’s not mad at you. Go ask him yourself.” Rick points a few cells down at where Glenn is staying and raises an eyebrow at Daryl. Blowing out a breath, Daryl relents.

“Fine,” he says. “But if you’re lying and he actually hates my guts Imma be pissed.”

“At least he only has one arm to throw a punch with,” Rick offers.

“Watch it, ‘cause I still got two,” Daryl says, and Rick laughs. 

“He wants to see you,” he says more seriously. “Go talk to him.”

And so Daryl goes to Glenn’s cell.

At first he thinks he’s asleep, his eyes closed and breathing even, and he’s about to turn back around with relief, but then his footsteps make a noise and Glenn’s eyes pop open and land on him and there’s no running away. Twisting his mouth, Daryl shoves one hand in his pocket and uses the other to rub the nape of his neck.

“Hey,” he says after an off-center beat of silence.

“Hey, arm-killer,” Glenn says. His voice is very weak, but a shit-eating grin spreads across his face for a moment, and it makes Daryl feel a thousand pounds lighter.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mutters, not sure how to address the amputated elephant in the room.

“Don’t be,” Glenn says, and when Daryl doesn’t reply, he insists, “Seriously, man. Don’t be.” 

Daryl ducks his head.

“You got hurt for my kid, and you ain’t the first.  _ I’m _ the one who should be takin’ hits to protect ‘em, not any of y’all.”

“No one’s keeping score, Daryl, and besides, it takes a village, right? I still would have gone in there even if I knew what I was gonna lose. It was worth it.”

“How bad are you hurtin’?” Daryl asks, his eyes trained on his boots.

“It’s not great. Trying not to think about it. I guess I was a mess yesterday. Maggie says I was screaming bloody murder, but I don’t remember any of it. And now? Well, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands...or, hand...on some of the pills in those lock boxes, but I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll see what I can do about gettin’ you some of them,” Daryl says.

“Daryl, if you go and get your own arm chopped off over a bottle of pain pills I will strangle you. And then everyone will know you got strangled by a guy with only one arm, and that’ll be really embarrassing for you.”

“Can’t have that, I guess,” Daryl mutters with a small smile.

“How’s my birthday twin?”

“A little better. Last night he had a coughing fit, and…” He forces himself to look up at Glenn. “He couldn’t breathe, man, and was all panicked and it was makin’ it worse, but then I found medicine that you got from the infirmary and it helped him, and like, I dunno if it was just him workin’ himself up, or if he was really chokin’, but I’m glad I didn’t have to find out. You might have saved his life, Glenn. I mean that.”

“And that’s why it’s worth it. This”—he holds up his bandaged stump with a grimace—“is a loss I can handle. That is not.” 

“Thank you,” Daryl whispers.

“Thank  _ you _ . I’d be walking around tryna eat your guys’ guts if you weren’t good with a knife. And I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

“Nah, it was easy. I just thought about every time you got on my damn nerves and before I knew it your arm was gone. You’re lucky I didn’t start takin’ other parts just for the hell of it.”

“Thank you for your restraint, then,” Glenn says with a laugh.

“Do you mind if I bring JJ in here? Just to show him you’re okay? He was all up in his feelings last night, blaming himself for you gettin’ hurt.”

“Ah, so that’s hereditary, huh?” Glenn says and Daryl casts him a glare. Glenn smiles. “Of course, dude. I’d love to see him.”

*

Daryl has Jesse wrapped up in a blanket in his arms when he takes him into Glenn’s cell. Jesse had shown the same hesitation Daryl himself had when faced with the idea of seeing Genn, and Daryl had to idly wonder—fuck, maybe that shit  _ is _ genetic.

Jesse keeps his head buried in the crook of Daryl’s neck, refusing to look at Glenn.

“Smart of you not to show your face,” Glenn says casually. “I imagine it must be humiliating for you to no longer be the coolest pirate in town.”

That catches Jesse’s attention. He peeks at Glenn, still mostly hidden, and furrows his brow.

“What?” he asks, voice still croaky.

“Tsk tsk, how sad for you. You’ve got  _ two _ captains on your ship and yet you’re still not as cool as me.”

“How are you the cooler pirate?” Jesse asks, more confused than offended. Glenn lifts up his stump.

“Once this heals I’m gonna get myself a big ol’ hook for a hand, and that way  _ I’ll _ be the authentic pirate, and you won’t.” He sticks his tongue out at Jesse, who looks conflicted, like maybe he wants to laugh but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to.

“Aren’t you sad that you don’t have an arm no more?”

“Psh, why would I be sad when I know how awesome I’m gonna look with a hook for a hand?” 

“If you didn’t go to get me medicine you wouldn’t have got hurt.”

“So, what? I was just supposed to let you not get better and never play pretend with you again? I would have ended up playing pretend with your daddy, and he’s the  _ worst _ at it. Remember when we played restaurant and his card kept getting declined? Who goes to a restaurant with no money?”

“Y’all  _ pretended _ my card got declined. That wasn’t on me,” Daryl objects, and Glenn shakes his head solemnly at Jesse.

“See? Won’t even take responsibility for his own actions. I couldn’t play with him. Nah, I needed my birthday twin.”

Jesse chews on his lower lip.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna be mad at me? It’s okay if you are.”

“Jesse,” Glenn says more seriously. “I’m not mad at you at all. Not even the teeniest, tiniest little bit, okay? This wasn’t your fault.”

Jesse watches Glenn for a moment like he’s waiting for a catch. When there isn’t one he finally nods.

“Are you okay, though, Uncle Glenn?”

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m alright. It hurts some, but nothin’ I can’t handle. How about you?”

“There’s still slugs in my nose and I keep coughing, but that’s okay. My hand hurts, though.”

“Your hand still hurts?” Daryl asks, and Jesse nods at him.

“Why does your hand hurt?” Glenn asks. Jesse shrugs while Daryl tugs his left arm free from the blanket and looks it over. There's still nothing amiss that he can see.

“Where does it hurt?” 

“Mm, like on the side,” Jesse says. “It's not too bad, though, don’t worry. Maybe my hand hurts ‘cause it knows Uncle Glenn’s hand hurts. Or. I mean that it did hurt before it stopped being on his body.”

“Could be,” Glenn says, exchanging a discreet glance with Daryl, who shrugs. “A weird kind of phantom pain.” 

“What’s that?” 

“A phantom pain? It's what doctors call it when someone loses an arm or leg but it feels like it’s still there.”

“Mm, I don’t like that so much.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda spooky.”

“I’ll feel them for you, though, so you don’t gotta be spooked. That’s probably what my hand is doing.” 

“Alright. But you better not be having a hurt hand ‘cause you’re trying to get a cool hook. It’s not worth it. Even if you got one you’d still never be as cool as me.”

At this, Jesse giggles for the first time in days, and it is the most wonderful sound. Daryl could kiss Glenn for bringing his son out of the storm clouds, if only for a moment.

“Hey, Daryl?” Rick pokes his head into the cell. “Can I borrow you for a few minutes?”

“Uh, yeah. Lemme take Jesse back to lie down.”

“Can I stay with Uncle Glenn for a little longer. I promise to rest.” 

“Uncle Glenn needs to rest, too, baby boy,” Daryl says.

“It’s fine, I can’t fall asleep anyway. Everything alright, though, Rick?”

“Mhm,” Rick says too quickly, and both Glenn and Daryl stare at him. “Nothing we need to talk about here.” He points discreetly at Jesse.

“You’ll talk about it in here later if it ends up being important, though, right?” Glenn asks causally, although he has an eyebrow raised.

“Yep,” Rick says. “You coming, Daryl?”

“Alright,” Daryl says, setting Jesse down. “I’ll be right back, kid. Be gentle with Uncle Glenn. His arm hurts pretty bad.” He barely hears Jesse say okay before he’s pushing Rick out of the cell, his hackles raised sky-high. The second they’re out of earshot, he asks, “‘Kay, what’s wrong?”

“Jesus and Aaron are back,” Rick says. Daryl’s blood runs cold.

“What did they find?” he asks, heart thudding.

“Not her. They didn’t find her, so she’s not...It’s not a worst case scenario, okay? Remember that.”

“What the fuck did they find, Rick?” Daryl asks, not controlling the volume of his voice. Rick glances down the hall at Glenn’s cell where Jesse is and motions for Daryl follow in the opposite direction.

“It’s better if they tell you,” he says. “They’re with Carol in your cell.”

Daryl practically runs there, and when he enters he sees Jesus and Aaron sitting uncomfortably on Jesse’s bed, and Carol is pacing around anxiously with her arms crossed. When she sees him she immediately steps up to him and grabs his elbows.

“They wouldn’t tell me what was going on until you were here, too. All they’d say is ‘she’s not dead.’” 

“That’s all I got, too. Guys, what the hell happened out there?”

Jesus and Aaron look tired and dirty, like they didn’t have great accommodations last night, but Daryl can't care at all right now.

“Okay, well,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. “First you should see this.” He hands a crumpled piece of scrap paper over to Daryl, who unfolds it the best he can and holds it out for Carol to see, too.

It reads:  _ Since you wanted clues. _

“What does that mean? Is this from Alpha?” Carol asks.

“That’s what we think, because that’s not the only thing she left behind,” Aaron says, and his tone is apologetic.

“Stop beatin’ around the bush and tell it to us straight, man, damn,” Daryl says, his blocks stacked to their absolute limit. Aaron gives a nod to Jesus, who reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of cloth. He unfolds it slowly and then holds it out in the palms of his hands like an offering.

Carol screams, and then covers her mouth, spinning around to face the wall.

Daryl just stares, paralyzed, as his blocks come tumbling down.

In the center of the piece of cloth is a small, pale pinky finger, severed at the joint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed my words, friends: don't freak out just yet.
> 
> in memoriam:
> 
> -glenn's arm
> 
> hoo boy, sorry this is late. it's technically been done for almost two days, but i write longhand and there was like nearly 10k to type up and my fingers were like "nah, bro." if you didn't see me say so on my blog, my update days have been moved to late tuesday night/wednesday morning cst. in the (likely) event that something is screwy, i usually post the reason why on my tumblr, waynedunlaptheorgandonor.tumblr.com. 
> 
> that said, i'm gonna be out of town for my next gas gauge week, so i'm leaving you on a ciiffhanger for like, over two weeks. my bad. my other wip should be updated soon, tho, if you're reading that? hooray?
> 
> anyway, get this thing away from me, it took forever just bc of stupid typing reasons. and remember, don't freak out just yet
> 
> adios,  
-diz


	18. Carol and Daryl Go Feral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i gave a general cw at the beginning of the story, but i wanted to give a cw for some sexual assault talk in this chap. no actual sexual assault, tho, promise

_ "There," Carol says, voice flooded with relief. "We did it." She sets the tiny nail clippers to the side and gives Daryl a shaky smile. In response, Daryl blows out a breath he didn't know he was holding and slumps back against the couch. _

_ "That was the scariest thing I've ever done in my whole damn life," he says, trying to tell his body to stand down and let go some of the tension it's still clinging onto. He stares down at Josie and Jesse wiggling on their backs on the play mats, their fingernails and toenails all neatly trimmed, with not a single bit of bloodshed. _

_ "Babies' nails shouldn't be allowed to grow long. There's no evolutionary advantage. They don't need claws. All it does is make their parents nearly stroke out trying to cut them without chopping off a whole fingertip. Who do we complain to about that?" _

_ "God?" Daryl suggests. _

_ "Dear Duolingo Owl," Carol says, putting a hand to her heart and looking up at the ceiling. Daryl snorts and shoves her gently. _

_ "Dork," he mutters fondly. He reaches out and takes hold of Josie's hand. Her fingers instinctively curl into a grip, and he leans down to kiss her itty bitty knuckles. Running a thumb over the place his lips just touched he shakes his head and asks, "You ever think about how wild it is that me and you made these two?" _

_ "Me and you, huh? Which one of us lugged them around for nearly nine months again?" Carol smirks and Daryl sticks his tongue out at her. _

_ "Yeah yeah, you're super woman, I know. I just mean like, don't it ever hit you that me and you got busy in a bathroom after one too many tequila shots and now we got these two whole-ass people who look like us 'cause they're part of us?" _

_ "I think about it all the time," Carol says, softer now. She mirrors Daryl's action on Jesse, playing with his index finger. "Ten fingers, ten toes, and it's because of you and me that they exist. All because we love each other. Seems impossible." _

_ "'All 'cause we love each other' is a nice way to spin the 'wasted and horny' thing," Daryl says, but it's in jest. He scoops Josie up, his much larger hands cradling her neck to keep it steady, and he searches her face and shakes his head in awe when he sees his own face there. He kisses her on her cheek and then rests his forehead on hers for a long moment. _

_ "They're ours," Carol says, voice suddenly quiet. _

_ "Crazy," Daryl mutters. _

_ Just then, Josie hiccups and spits up, regurgitated milk dripping onto his pants. He sighs as Carol laughs. _

_ "All ours," she says, this time as a warning. _

_ "Guess we gotta keep 'em then," Daryl says resigned, laying the baby back down and using a burp rag to wipe his jeans, leaving behind a wet stain. Josie blinks up at him innocently with eyes that match his own and he can't help but smile. _

_ He _ gets _ to keep them, he amends in his head. After all, they made them. Every finger and every toe. The closest thing to a miracle he has ever seen. _

*

Time stands still. Daryl can plainly see what’s in front of him, but he can’t process it. It’s incomprehensible. There’s simply no way his daughter—his first born, baby girl—has been hurt like this.

But here’s the proof in Jesus’ cupped hands. Some woman held his baby down and caused her pain. A child could never go through that without screaming, and what if that was the first sound Josie’s made since her kidnapping? What if she’d gone mute for days and this woman forced the noise from her throat by putting a knife to her slender finger and—

No. He can’t think that far. There’s a mental block in his brain refusing to let himself imagine it. It’s his fault she’s lost, and now she’s been hurt, and he is officially _ done _ standing around.

Without a word, Daryl shoulders past Jesus to grab his crossbow. He slings it over his shoulder and makes to leave, but Rick steps in front of him, blocking the entrance.

“Get out of my way,” Daryl grunts.

“Where are you going?” Rick asks. 

“To get my daughter back.”

“You can’t go rushing in all hot-headed like this. If you go out there all worked up and not thinking clearly you’re gonna get yourself killed. We need to come up with a plan.”

“Man, I’m fuckin' done with plans. We been tryna plan our every move, and what’s it gotten us? Merle’s dead. Beth. Henry. Glenn just lost his goddamn arm. And while we been sittin’ around waitin’ for the ‘right time’ to roll around my daughter has been gettin’ abused. My baby is lost, scared, and hurt, and I’m gonna go find her now, so get the hell outta my way.”

“Use your head, Daryl.”

“Don’t test me, dude. Don’t think I won’t take another swing. I’ll break your jaw if I gotta.”

“Daryl—”

“Let us through.”

Daryl and Rick turn to see Carol checking the clip of her pistol and then putting it in the waist of her jeans.

Daryl says, “You ain’t comin’ with me.”

And she says, “The hell I’m not.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not lettin’ you put yourself at risk. You stay here with JJ.”

“This woman cut our daughter’s finger off,” Carol says with an unsettling level of calm. Daryl winces. “If you think for one second that I’m not gonna go out there and tear this woman apart, then you’re out of your mind. I’m gonna hurt her. I’m gonna take each of her fingers off one-by-one, causing her so much pain she’ll wish she’d never been born.”

The steel in Carol’s eyes is immovable. If he didn’t know her better he’d be terrified of her right now. The energy she’s radiating is pure fury, and Rick actually takes a step back when Carol stares him down. Daryl’s not the only one done fucking around. Momma bear has just gone feral and there’s nothing he can say or do to keep her caged, and so he does the only thing he _ can _ do, and relents.

“Y’all watch Jesse for us,” he tells the others. 

Rick seems at a loss, eyes flitting between Carol and Daryl before finally landing on Jesus and Aaron, who don’t appear to have any better idea on how to handle the raging parents. Jesus has tucked the severed finger away, but Daryl still feels its presence; can swear he can hear it blaring like a siren in the sound of his daughter’s screams.

It’s Aaron who breaks the silence. He pulls out the keys to the truck and hands them to Daryl.

“Get us a map,” he says. “And I’ll show you where we found...where we found _ it _, just as long as the two of you promise to try and be safe.”

Daryl is about to tell him that he’ll do whatever the fuck he has to in order to get his daughter back, safe or not, but then he remembers that Carol will definitely follow him into fire if he goes, and he has his little boy waiting for their return.

“Just keep our son safe,” he grunts. Carol is already digging through one of their packs for Jesse’s pilfered library book with the maps inside it. She lays it on the desk built into the wall, pressing down on the crease in the middle to keep it open. Aaron traces the route on the page with a pen, circling the spot where they found the finger, and Daryl rips it out of the book, folds it up, and slips it into his pocket.

They wait just long enough to poke their heads into Glenn's room, where Jesse is curled up at the foot of Glenn’s bed talking to him animatedly about something or other with his croaky voice.

“Everything alright?” Glenn asks when he notices them in the doorway. Neither Daryl or Carol answer.

“You good in here with Uncle Glenn, sweet potato?” Carol asks.

“Mhm. I’m telling him about how the slugs hurt my chest last night.”

“How’s your chest feelin’ right now?” Daryl asks. 

“It’s okay,” Jesse says with a shrug. 

“Alright, well you can stay in here for a while, but then me and daddy want you to rest.”

“Mkay.”

“We love you very much,” she says, and Daryl can hear the underlying guilt in her tone, but they can’t tell him what’s going on. Not when that heart on his sleeve is already so cracked and fragile.

“More than anythin’,” Daryl affirms.

“Love you, too,” Jesse says, looking from one parent to the other. 

Glenn is frowning at them, but bless him when he gets the idea and says to Jesse, “So are these slugs from outer space?”

Jesse launches into an explanation, and over his head Glenn meets Daryl’s eye. All he does is nod before dipping out of the room, Carol at his heel. In his periphery he sees her take a swipe at the tears threatening to fall.

“We’ll be back soon, love,” she whispers. Jesse can’t hear her but Daryl hopes that somehow he can feel it. Daryl takes his wife’s hand in his and squeezes it tight, tongue dry and twisted, unable to form the words, but she speaks Daryl fluently and knows it’s a reassurement. 

This is a necessity, this leaving to go on the hunt, of that there’s no doubt.

But God it hurts to leave that bright, innocent face. 

They walk out of the prison, and Daryl’s heartstrings are severed, coming apart like a bitten arm with a knife at the elbow joint, or like the finger of a baby being punished for nothing more than the failings of her father, and Daryl accepts his pain, knowing with his everything that he deserves it, and all he can do is pray to a God he’s not sure he believes in that he can atone for his sins, and, if he’s lucky, be forgiven.

Even if forgiveness is a privilege he doesn’t know if he can ever earn. 

*

_ (10:07p) *Hey.* _

_ (10:08p) -hey bb u back from the movie w/ rachel?- _

_ (10:09p) *Yeah, she just dropped me off at home.* _

_ (10:10p) -how u feelin?- _

_ (10:12p) *Idk. Movie was ok. Kind of feeling like a trash wife and mom tho. So you know, mixed bag.* _

_ (10:13p) -?- _

_ (10:13p) -y wud u think ur a trash wife or mom?- _

_ (10:17p) -carol?- _

_ (10:18p) *Ugh. Because I shouldn’t still be having days like this.* _

_ (10:19p) -it aint a problem merles happy af 2 have me n the twins over 4 the nite so u can get a break n the kids r fine- _

_ (10:19p) -n i aint mad abt it u kno tht rite? u can always ask me 4 a break if u need one- _

_ (10:20p) *I know but the thing is that I shouldn’t have to. The kids are going to be two in a few months. How long can I carry around this postpartum depression card before it expires and it just becomes a stupid excuse?* _

_ (10:20p) *I’m a grown-ass woman with kids and school and a job and responsibility. I can’t just get sad and go to you and be like “hey I need to forget I’m an adult for a day, can you take the kids and leave me alone?”* _

_ (10:21p) -ya u can- _

_ (10:21p) -n i wont nvr b mad @ u 4 it- _

_ (10:21p) -i’ll b happy tht ur honest w/ me abt wuts goin on- _

_ (10:21p) -plus it aint like ur goin out on the town every nite. u work full time n go 2 college n r a momma most of the time. ur allowed 2 have a break sweetheart- _

_ (10:22p) *I don’t like asking for help.* _

_ (10:23p) -rly?? shocking new info- _

_ (10:24p) *Lmfao, shut up.* _

_ (10:24p) *I just mean that I feel like I should be able to do everything and then my mental health is like “actually, go fuck yourself” out of nowhere and I become useless.* _

_ (10:25p) -i got bad news- _

_ (10:25p) -turns out ur a human being- _

_ (10:25p) -i mean ur basically super woman obvi but u still cant do /all/ the things- _

_ (10:26p) *Sounds fake.* _

_ (10:27p) -promise its tru tho- _

_ (10:27p) -listen me n u r a team n tht means whn u need help i’ll pick up the slack n ik ull do the same 4 me whn i need it- _

_ (10:28p) *You say that like you don’t have the exact same problems I do about having to Do All the Things Alone and then feeling guilty when you’re suddenly burnt out.* _

_ (10:29p) -ya well part of bein in this team is we call each other out on our bullshit- _

_ (10:29p) -like now bc imma tell u 2 stop wastin ur nite off feelin guilty n go take a nice bath w/ them fancy soap things tht turn the water cool colors- _

_ (10:30p) *Sigh. Fine. I will treat myself. But I’ll feel a little guilty the whole time.* _

_ (10:31p) -well do ur best- _

_ (10:32p) *Mkay. Love you.* _

_ (10:33p) -ilu2- _

_ (10:33p) -o btw i went 2 the store n got sum reeses cups n put em in the freezer in case u wnted 2 put em in ice cream- _

_ (10:34p) *God, you’re the perfect man. I love this team.* _

_ (10:35p) -lol ride or die bb- _

_ (10:36p) *Fuck yes ride or die. You get me chocolate without me even having to ask. Through hell or high water I’m in this for life.* _

*

Daryl’s seat vibrates with the thrum of the motorcycle. The wind rushes by, deafening him to anything else. The shells of his ears are burning with the chill of the air and he revels in it; is happy to have such a simple pain to focus on instead of all the complex ones in his heart. Carol’s hands are gripping his waist, and she’s slumped as far forward as she can be with his crossbow in the way, as if everything is just too damn heavy for her to sit up straight, and he can’t blame her. Add that to the list of things he feels guilty about. The love of his life hurts so badly she can’t hold her body up, and she wouldn’t be like that if he had just done the one job he’s meant to do and kept his children safe.

He presses down on the accelerator and the wind whips faster.

The route they’re on takes them through one of those towns the highway cuts through that are so small and empty that they were essentially ghost towns before the world ended, and now that it has they’re so hollow it’s surreal. Up ahead there’s a dilapidated corner store that has a handful of cars parked haphazardly and abandoned in the gravel parking lot. Checking the gas gauge, he sees they’re at less than a quarter tank and makes the split second decision to take an abrupt right turn into the lot. Rocks kick up from under the wheels as they come to a stop, and when he cuts the engine the sudden silence is louder than any whistling wind could ever be.

“What are you doing?” Carol asks. She speaks in a near-whisper but her voice sounds brazen in the quiet. 

“Gonna see if I can’t siphon some gas,” Daryl explains. “Might check the store right quick, too. Just in case there’s anythin’ worth a damn inside.” 

Carol’s hands slide off of his waist and when she gets off the bike Daryl can tell she isn’t happy about the detour. She doesn’t say so, but he knows her well enough to see the tell-tale signs of irritation, like how her jaw tenses just ever-so-slightly, and the way her cheeks grow concave as she slowly sucks them in, but she doesn’t argue. She can’t, because it’s not like he pulled over to go window shopping. Without gas they’re going nowhere fast, but that doesn’t make Daryl feel like any less of a piece of shit about having the gall to stop at all; that he’s taking even one second from hauling ass to the place Aaron circled for them on the map. It’s not his fault that the engine needs to burn fuel to run, but he takes the blame anyway, heaping it onto the pile.

Without a word, Carol unsheathes her knife and starts inspecting cars. Daryl does the same, checking out an old, beige Honda with a dent in the bumper and rust in the paint. 

Both the driver’s and back passenger’s side doors are partially ajar, but no light is on inside, and Daryl figures the battery must be dead. He uses his crossbow to nudge the driver’s side door open the rest of the way, and when he peers inside he’s struck with the stale, musty smell of rotting blood that he’s beginning to become accustomed to, much to his displeasure. There are a few drops of dried blood on the cushion and the center console, but when he looks in the back he finds the main source of the smell.

There’s a car seat. It’s not for infants but it’s still rear-facing, and for a solid five seconds Daryl is paralyzed with fear that there may be a toddler-sized walker waiting for him to put a bolt through its head, but when he finds the courage to examine it closer he discovers that it’s empty say for a soft, crocheted baby blanket left behind in a heap. Gingerly, he lifts it up and sees that there’s a giant, rust-colored stain soaked into the yarn. He drops it like it’s suddenly caught fire.

There are plenty of context clues to paint a picture as to how that blanket came to be abandoned and covered in blood, but Daryl opts for willful ignorance. There simply is no more room in his heart for another hurt child.

Despite the crude discovery, the Honda proves useful when they’re able to siphon enough gas out of it to bring the bike up to a nearly full tank, which is lucky because the rest of the cars provide them with fuck all. There isn’t so much as a pack of gum in a glove box. The most exciting things either of them find is a rewards card for some grocery store they’ve never heard of stuck between the back seats of an SUV, and a bunch of used kleenexes in the door pocket of a Chevy Venture. 

“Gonna take a look inside. Wanna cover me?” Daryl asks once they’ve gone through all the cars.

“Is it worth it? Was this place even open before everything broke bad?” Carol asks, frowning at the shop. It’s a fair point. The side paneling is peeling off and the roof is in desperate need of reshingling, but whoever was the last to staff the place never bothered to flip the open sign in one of the tinted windows to closed, and Daryl has spent enough time in small Georgia towns to know that a local shop doesn’t have to be pretty to be in business if the nearest Wal-Mart is forty miles away.

“Let’s duck our heads in just real fast. We didn’t bring much by way of rations. Don’t hurt to check.”

“We’ve got enough to get us through until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but what if when we find her she hasn’t ate for a while?” Daryl asks with uncertainty, nervous that voicing the thought of finding Josie with confidence will jinx them. Or worse—that Carol will look at him with doubt, proving what he’s beginning to fear, which is that she’s losing faith in his ability to care for his family.

She doesn’t look at him with doubt, however. On the contrary, all her features, which are wound tight with anxiety and fury, soften at once into something sadder. Her shoulders slump as the tension leaks out of them like the air in a punctured balloon, and for a moment the ferocity of Mama Bear is overshadowed by grief. Daryl knows they’re both feeling it—that anguish that only a parent of a hurt child could ever understand.

“Okay,” she whispers, and gestures for him to go ahead. Not needing anymore prompting, Daryl heads towards the entrance with Carol falling in step behind him.

Getting inside is easy enough. They purposely make enough noise to reveal any walkers that may be hiding, and when none show they continue on.

The place isn’t a goldmine by any means, but it’s not a complete wash either, as they feared it might be. The shelves have been picked at, but not emptied, and Daryl suspects that the rundown appearance of the outside of the building has worked in their favor, driving other looters away. It’s a weird little shop, with no easily discernible organization scheme, and Daryl’s not sure how much of that is from people shuffling things around versus the original design, but he supposes it doesn’t matter one way or another.

What matters are the lukewarm cans of what appears to be guava juice he finds on the middle of a shelf, and the energy bars Carol finds, even though they have raisins in them. They even find a bag of gummy bears to take back for Jesse and Ryan.

Daryl is feeling a rare bit of success in regards to their mission, relieved that for once a plan has gone off without a hitch, when he makes a discovery that catapults him right back into the bullshit.

Towards the back of the store he stumbles upon a couple rumpled sleeping bags and blankets, with an open bag of pretzels resting on a pillow, and a half-full bottle of water with the cap off, which means that it hasn't been abandoned long enough to evaporate. Right as Daryl puts two-and-two together and comes to the conclusion that they may not be alone in the shop he hears the tell-tale sound of a safety clicking off directly behind him.

“Put down the crossbow or I paint the wall with your brains,” comes a gruff voice. Daryl doesn’t comply right away, and in return he feels the cold metal of a gun being pressed against the base of his skull. Grimacing, he lowers his crossbow to the ground and then turns around slowly with his hands in the air.

The man with the gun on him is meaty and about a week past due for a shower. His facial hair is patchy and unkempt, and his t-shirt has pit stains Daryl doesn’t think even the fancy Maytag Barb got them for Christmas last year could get out.

This man and his threats to blow Daryl away are pushed to the wayside, however, when he sees that Carol is standing a few feet away from him with her hands laced behind her head, a different man holding her at gunpoint too.

They can paint the whole damn store with his blood if they must, but if they touch a single hair on her head…

“Let her go,” Daryl says levelly. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Carol, and she doesn’t take hers off of him. She’s wearing a hardened expression with not a hint of weakness on her even though Daryl knows her heart has to be beating as fast as his right now, and a hint of pride sparks in him at her bravery. 

“Let her go?” the meaty man says. “Why on God’s green Earth would we do a thing like that?” 

“Take our shit if you’re gonna, but hurt her and I’ll have y’all screamin’ for your mommas, you hear me?”

“We’ll take your stuff, don’t worry none about that. As for the chick? I wouldn’t dream of hurting her. As a matter of fact”—he takes a step closer to Daryl and says in a stage whisper, his breath rancid—“we intend to shower her one helluva good time.” 

The man holding Carol hostage—an ugly, gangly guy with shaggy blonde hair and a sweaty pencil moustache—runs his fingers down the length of Carol’s arm while grinning ear-to-ear, and Daryl sees red. 

“Can’t really blame a guy, can you?” Daryl’s capture says, apparently unaware of just how much fire he’s playing with. “Didn’t you hear? The world ended. As far as I know this is the last woman on Earth. Small blessings that she’s a looker. I get the sense that she’s your girl, though, huh? I hate to trespass on another man’s property, so tell you what—how about instead of killing you dead right here we lock you up in the backroom, and then we’ll let you have one more go at her once we’ve had our fun? Think of it as a last meal. Damn better than steak and potatoes, wouldn’t you say?” 

Daryl isn’t even processing the man’s words anymore. He’s transcended anger and has become nothing but a furious, feral animal.

There’s absolutely no forethought that goes into his next actions. He moves purely by instinct as he reaches for his belt and yanks out the knife Merle gave him and stabs it deep into the man’s thigh.

The man yelps in surprise and drops his gun. Daryl’s on it in a millisecond, and he smacks the man upside the head with it, sending him stumbling to the ground. Daryl raises the pistol at the other man with every intention of blowing his head off and sending him straight to Hell, but it appears Carol’s got it handled.

In all the commotion Carol seems to have managed to either punch or kick the man directly in the gnads. Daryl’s not sure which, but he knows she did one or the other because the man is on his knees with his hands gripping his crotch. She claims his fumbled gun and there is no preamble between her finger finding the trigger and the man’s skull doing the redecorating his buddy had threatened Daryl with.

With pencil ‘stache taken care of, Daryl looks at his guy who is down for the count, whimpering and bleeding from the temple, barely conscious. Daryl’s fingers itch around the pistol in his grip, but with the immediate danger gone he’s starting to remember himself, and as much as he wants the man dead there’s a mental block preventing him from taking that final step.

“Daryl,” Carol says urgently. “Walkers.”

Daryl turns to see Carol pointing out the window where across the street a handful of walkers are emerging from behind a big, grey industrial building, drawn by the gunshot, and Daryl gets a lovely idea.

In a swift and elegant motion, Daryl kicks the man in the stomach with all his strength, causing him to curl in on himself in the fetal position. Daryl then swoops in and yanks his knife out of the meaty man’s meaty thigh, ignoring his scream of pain. Then, as a final step, Daryl takes hold of the nearest shelf and, with a grunt, tips it over and lets it fall on top of the man with a satisfying thud, the remaining items scattering all over the floor. One item in particular catches his eye—a jumbo-sized Hershey’s bar, untouched and pristine. He takes it, knowing someone who will consider it a special gift once she’s been found. 

Only then does he pick up his crossbow and let Carol usher him out of the store.

Outside the walkers are limping closer, so Daryl makes quick work of taking a bag of ice salt and dragging it over to prop the door open. From inside the man pleads for them to free him.

“Yeah, keep yellin’ asshole,” Daryl mutters, running with Carol to the bike. “Draw ‘em right to you.”

He starts the engine and glances back at Carol, who’s looping her arms around his middle.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks over the noise of the motor and the groans of the walkers. In response, Carol lifts herself up in her seat and gives him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. The angle is awkward but it doesn’t make it any less appreciated.

“Drive,” she instructs him.

With walkers closing in, Daryl takes off, the dirt kicking up behind them, leaving the monsters, quite literally, in the dust.

*

_ Josie put up a fight all day about going to preschool orientation, her haughtiness and misbehavior clearly a cover for her anxiety, and they had told her that there was nothing to be scared of, but if Daryl is being honest he isn’t looking forward to it much more than she is. _

_ There’s the obvious issue that somehow his sweet babies, who had once been tiny enough to be cradled in the crook of his elbow, are now big enough to go to school. At any given moment he’s thinking about where the time has gone. But the sillier and more on-brand issue is that he has no idea how to behave around other parents. Barb has been their babysitter since the kids were in diapers, and outside of Rachel they don’t really have other "mommy and daddy" friends. And so, not unlike his daughter, Daryl is dreading being surrounded by strangers. _

_ The small talk. Oh god, there is going to be so much small talk. _

_ Even as they’re all loaded in the car and on their way, Daryl wonders idly if it’s too late to convince Carol that they could totally swing homeschool. _

_ The preschool is attached to the elementary school, which is across the street from the middle school, which is only a few blocks from the high school—it's a small town, after all. The parking lot is full for a summer day, parents and kids of all elementary grade levels arriving for their orientations. _

_ "Are all of these people going to be in my class?" Jesse asks, peering out of his window from his car seat eagerly. _

_ "No, only a few of them. The older kids are in different grades than you," Carol explains as she finds an empty spot and snags it. _

_ "Do I have to talk to them?" Josie asks, peering out her window from her car seat with disdain. Daryl refrains from asking Carol the same question, although judging by the flat look she gives him she already knows what he's thinking. _

_ "It'll be good for you, sweet potato," Carol says brightly. "You never know, maybe you'll make new friends." _

_ "Do I have to make new friends?" _

_ Carol sighs and mutters under her breath at Daryl, "Couldn't you have let her have a _ few _ of my genes, babe?" _

_ Inside is as bad as Daryl—and likely Josie—anticipated. They follow signs that lead them to a brightly colored room that has the alphabet and numbers painted on the walls. There's a big rainbow rug that takes up the center of the floor that is covered in different shapes. And the whole room is full of other parents and their children milling about, snacking on sugar cookies cut out to look like farm animals as they chat with one another. Daryl glances down at the twins. _

_ Jesse looks like he's about two seconds away from bursting into an explosion of confetti. _

_ Josie looks like she's about to be waterboarded. _

_ "Hello!" A cheerful woman with big wireframe glasses and a vibrant dress Ms. Frizzle would be proud of comes and greets them. "I'm Miss Amy. I'll be teaching the preschoolers this year." She holds a hand out towards Daryl and Carol usurps it expertly, saving him. _

_ "I'm Carol Dixon, this is my husband Daryl, and these are our kids, Jesse and Josie." _

_ Miss Amy lets go of Carol's hand and crouches down to get eye level with the twins. She smiles warmly and says, "Why hello there! I'm excited to have you in my class. Are you two twins?" _

_ "Mhm, but we don't have the same birthday even though twins have the same birthday 'cause I was born after midnight and that's when the day changes, your dress sure has a lot of colors, nice to meet you," Jesse says in a single breath. He holds his hand out and Miss Amy takes it with a chuckle. She then turns to Josie and offers her a handshake too. The little girl stares at her warily. _

_ "My sissy doesn't like new people so much but she knows a lot of things and can already read real good. She likes books a whole lot," Jesse explains. Miss Amy lets her hand fall to her knee and nods at Josie. _

_ "Well, did you know our school has a library, Josie? We'll go there every Friday as a class and you can check out any book you want. How does that sound?" _

_ Josie twists her mouth and shrugs, but there's a spark of interest in her eyes that Daryl thinks Miss Amy must see, because she doesn't press his daughter anymore; just straightens up and turns back to him and Carol. _

_ "Feel free to mingle and have a look around. There are twelve preschoolers this year, Josie and Jesse included. I'll be going over the curriculum here at the top of the hour once more people have arrived, but please let me know if you have any other questions beforehand." _

_ Miss Amy walks away to go greet more students and parents. Daryl leans in close to Carol and mutters, "Mingle?" Carol flicks him on the forearm. _

_ "It won't kill you," she says. Daryl isn't so sure, but Josie is watching him and he supposes he has to set a good example. Why did he ever think having kids would be a good idea? Changing dirty diapers is one thing, but no one warned him about mingling. _

_ "Momma, look," Jesse says suddenly, pointing at the door. "It's my friend Bentley from swim class." _

_ Daryl watches Carol’s face blanch so white she could be a corpse. Slowly, she turns her head towards the door, Daryl doing the same, and sure enough there is a little blonde boy from the twins’ beginner swim class last April, and behind him is his mother fussing with the hem of his shirt. Daryl is instantly filled with dread. Somewhere in the back of his mind _ Kill Bill _ sirens start blaring. _

_ "Jen," Carol says, speaking it with the venomous hatred one does when speaking the name of an archenemy, and Daryl really didn't anticipate bailing his wife out of jail tonight, but life, it seems, really is full of surprises. _

_ Likely feeling the wave of murderous vibes wafting off of Carol, Jen’s head snaps up and her gaze zeroes in on her with laser-pointer precision. Her nostrils flair. A vein in Carol’s temple pulses. Jesse waves brightly at Bentley, oblivious. _

_ The last time Daryl witnessed Carol and Jen in the same room was the first day of swim lessons when Jen had looked at Carol in her bathing suit and had said, “I have a friend who had twins and had a hard time getting her body back, too, do you want me to give you the name of her personal trainer?” and from that point forward Daryl insisted on going with the kids to their lessons alone, even though he refused to take his shirt off in the water and the other parents looked at him weird. _

_ “Momma?” Josie asks, not bothering to whisper. “Isn’t that the lady you and Rachel called a heinous bi—” _

_ Carol claps her hand over Josie’s mouth. A couple thumbing through an information packet together nearby glances at them with a frown. _

_ “You know, sometimes it’s better when you decide you don’t want to talk,” Carol mutters, not loudly enough for their daughter to hear, but Daryl doesn’t miss it. He shoots her a flat look, but he’s quickly distracted by the fact that Jen is making her way over towards them. Daryl considers the window. They’re on the first floor. The only thing that would hurt him if he jumped out of it would be the glass. He could handle it. _

_ “Hi Bentley. My name is Jesse Dixon, do you remember that from when we did swimming?” Jesse says upon Jen and Bentley’s approach, before anyone else can say anything. Daryl realizes that Jen’s husband is also there, but he’s still standing at the door staring at his phone, either not aware that his wife has wandered off or not bothered about it. _

_ “Yeah, you played pretend as a fish a lot,” says Bentley. He’s not wrong. Jesse spent the majority of swim lessons pretending to be a variety of miscellaneous aquatic animals. _

_ “Are you doing preschool, too?” _

_ “Mhm. Did you know Miss Amy has a pet toad as a class pet? My cousin who is old and in kindergarten now says that she does.” _

_ Jesse’s eyes widen into saucers and Daryl can almost hear an audible “ping!” followed by “quest added!” in his weird fuckin’ brain. _

_ “Where?” he asks with dead seriousness. _

_ “Dunno, pro’ly in the back of the room maybe.” _

_ “Let’s go see.” Jesse grabs Bentley by the wrist and then looks up at Carol. “Momma, will you stop putting your hand on Joey’s face so she can come see the toad with us?” _

_ Carol hastily pulls her hand back from Josie’s mouth, as if she forgot she’d been holding it there, and Jesse grabs Josie’s wrist as well and drags both of them off to find the toad. _

_ “Your son sure is an energetic thing, it’s no wonder you look so tired,” Jen says once the children are out of earshot. She and Carol smile at each other in that way that always baffles Daryl as to how it manages to be innocuous and yet so vile at the same time. _

_ “I have to go to the bathroom,” Daryl says, making to flee. _

_ “No you don’t,” Carol says, taking him by the elbow and trapping him. _

_ “Oh, and how is your lovely boyfriend doing?” Jen asks, turning her nasty smile on Daryl. _

_ “Well, for one thing he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my husband.” _

_ “Is he really?” Jen asks with a gasp. Carol wets her bottom lip with her tongue and narrows her eyes. _

_ “Sure is. Has been for years. I’ve definitely told you that before, more than once in fact. Dunno why it’s always such a surprise.” _

_ “Oh, you know, it’s just that they say that young relationships never survive teenage pregnancies, but I’m so glad that the two of you have managed to beat the statistics.” _

_ “Yeah, for sure. Too bad that we did fall victim to the drug addiction and homelessness. You don’t happen to have a couch we could crash on, do you? It’s getting cramped in our cardboard box on the street.” _

_ “Babe, I think you’re drawin’ blood,” Daryl mutters with a wince as Carol’s fingers clench tighter and her nails dig into his flesh. _

_ “You always have such a dark sense of humor. You’re lucky you found a man who puts up with it.” _

_ “My _ man _ finds me charming as hell, thank you very much.” _

_ “Oop, sounds like you’ve been saying all the right things to keep your wife happy at home, huh?” Jen says to Daryl with a wink. Daryl throws up a little in his mouth. “Better keep it up. Marriage isn’t easy, especially for kids as young as the two of you.” _

_ “Yeah, you and Mr. Jen sure seem like the emblem of love and commitment.” Carol clears her throat and nods in Jen’s husband’s direction, where he’s still on his phone by the door. _

_ “Rob is just a very busy man. He’s replying to work emails,” Jen explains. Daryl decides against pointing out that he can see Rob’s phone in the reflection of the glass door and he is very clearly playing Candy Crush. “He works hard for me and our Bentley.” _

_ “So does Daryl, but he still manages to find time to look me in the eye now and then. Do you think he doesn’t look up from his phone because he’s afraid that at this point he’ll have forgotten what you look like and he doesn’t want you to get mad?” _

_ “Make all the jokes you want, I’m not offended. It’s hard for someone as young as you are to understand the nuances of serious relationships. It’s about understanding and compromise. Rob works hard to provide for me and in return I make sure that our house is taken care of, and that I am always at my best for him.” _

_ Carol makes a show of examining Jen’s surely-batshit-insane-expensive outfit. _

_ “Yeah well,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve worn these leggings with a peanut butter stain on them for two days now and I still got laid this morning, so maybe your marriage just sucks.” _

_ “‘Kay, we’re done.” Daryl puts his hands on Carol’s shoulders and starts pushing her away. _

_ “Hey—” she starts, but he shakes his head, still pushing her to the other side of the room, ignoring the puzzled looks of the other parents. _

_ “I’m bettin’ there’s a timeout spot in here somewhere. Don’t make me put you in it,” he whispers to her. He takes them over to a small table and pulls out a chair for her. She glares at him for a second, but then takes a seat, her body comically large in the chair obviously built for children. Daryl lowers himself to the ground beside her. _

_ “I hate her,” Carol says. _

_ “I know. But you’re gonna get the kids expelled before school’s even begun.” _

_ “I might actually kill her one of these days.” _

_ “Then I’ll be sure to do my best at keepin’ y’all apart if we’re ever in the same place again. We ain’t joinin’ PTA, by the way, ‘cause I’m sure she’ll be like, president or somethin’.” _

_ “Agreed.” _

_ From the back of the room a woman lets out a shriek. Carol and Daryl startle and turn just in time to see a toad hopping off of some lady’s head. This is followed by a familiar voice saying frantically, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I dropped him ‘cause he went pee on my hand. My sissy said toads don’t hop so high like frogs do but I guess they can sometimes. You don’t have to yell, he’s a real nice toad, I promise!” _

_ “Oh Jesus Christ,” Carol says, burying her head in her hands. _

_ Daryl, getting an instant migraine, says, “I’m takin’ the van out into the woods and leavin’ all’a y’all behind right this minute. Not a single one of y’all knows how to behave.” _

_ “You can’t. Who’ll keep me from committing murder?” _

_ “Ain’t my problem no more.” _

_ “How long ‘til they figure out he’s ours?” _

_ “Pro’ly any second now.” _

_ “I’ll handle it.” Carol gets up from her chair. She points at Daryl and adds, “But if he’s still got toad piss on him I’m gonna have him give Jen a really long handshake.” _

_ Daryl can’t help his laugh as Carol goes to claim their son. _

_ He and Josie had it right all along: Fuck preschool orientations. _

*

By late afternoon the two of them have searched every nook and cranny of the area circled on the map. They’ve examined every print in the ground, lifted every rock, and inspected every tree, but if any clues have been left behind indicating which way Alpha headed with their daughter they aren’t seeing them.

“Goddamnit,” Daryl huffs after determining that the tracks in the grass he’d been staring at for five minutes were from what was likely a very fat racoon. He plops down on his ass and rests his arms on his bent knees, hands dangling between his legs. Carol walks up behind him and starts kneading his shoulders, which feels nice, and that makes him hate it because he doesn’t _ deserve _ to feel nice. Not when he’s still failing so spectacularly. He shifts away from her touch, and she sighs but doesn’t try to bring him back.

“It’s gonna get dark,” she says instead.

“I know.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to make it back to the prison in time. Aaron gave us the location of that house they squatted in last night. We should go find it before it gets too late.” When Daryl doesn’t respond she gets on her knees beside him and takes his hand in hers.

“Baby, I don’t want to stop looking either, but it’s useless in the dark. They’ve been headed east for the most part, so that’s where we’ll try first thing in the morning.”

Daryl considers her for a moment, running his thumb over her knuckles, before finally blowing out a breath and conceding with a singular nod. Carol helps him to his feet and the two of them trek back to where they parked the bike, once again leaving with nothing but another trail gone cold behind them.

It’s on the route to find shelter for the night that they find the clue they’ve been searching for all day.

It is not where or what they expected. Not even a little bit.

It happens halfway through the drive, when Carol double taps Daryl on the side to signal him to stop. He pulls onto the shoulder and watches her with a bemused frown as she swings a leg up and over and gets off the bike while it’s still idling.

“What’re you doin’?” he asks.

“There’s someone over there.” She points across the wide highway at a field of tall grass.

“So? We don’t exactly got the best track record with strangers, babe. Why should we go searchin’ one out?” 

“Because they looked hurt, and if they’re hurt then they won’t be able to overtake us, and maybe we can get information out of them. Maybe they’ve seen something.” She must be able to tell Daryl’s leery because she adds, “We’ll be careful about it. Besides, it looked like a woman.” 

The unspoken “so you don’t have to worry about another man trying to put their hands on me” is deafening.

“Aight,” Daryl agrees after a moment’s hesitation. He doesn’t like it, but they aren’t in a position to overlook any possible leads. “Keep your gun ready, though.”

He gets her back on the bike and cuts across the highway, getting as close as he dares to the spot Carol pointed out, and sure enough there’s someone lying there mostly hidden in the grass, the only thing giving them away being the sparkly sequins on their hot pink blouse.

“Careful, if she’s dead she could turn any second,” Daryl warns when he stops the bike and the two of them start inching towards the body. Daryl has his crossbow armed and keeps scanning the tall grass in case they’re being lured into some kind of trap. A person pretending to be hurt on the side of the road to attract the last few decent people in the world who would bother to check on her and then jumping them perhaps. Not that Daryl necessarily considers himself to be one of the world’s last decent people. He let a man get eaten a few hours ago, and that’s not even top ten on the list of things he feels guilty about.

Carol gets close enough to see the woman’s face first, and when she does her mouth drops and she falters a moment before saying, “Holy shit, Daryl. It’s _ Jen. _”

At first he can’t place the name, his life with Lamaze classes and swimming lessons so far in the rearview mirror they’re nothing but tiny specks, but then he remembers.

Jen. 

Oh God, Jen.

And this time Carol has a loaded gun.

It’s _ so _ much worse than he expected. _ Please, _ he asks God, the Duolingo Owl, or whoever, _ let her already be dead. _

“She’s alive,” Carol says. She kneels down beside her and Daryl closes his eyes and centers himself before joining them.

“Alive” is a generous term. She’s breathing, sure, but those breaths are labored, and the large chunk missing from the space between her neck and shoulder in the shape of a bite mark suggests she’s not having a great go of it. There’s blood staining her blonde, matted hair, and she’s shivering even though her body is covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Jen?” Carol asks in what is likely the softest, most genuine voice she’s ever used with this particular woman. Jen blinks her eyes open and it takes a few seconds for her to focus them. When she does she fixes her gaze on Carol and a deep crease forms between her brows.

“Oh god,” she says weakly. “I’m dead aren’t I? I’m dead and I’ve gone to Hell.” 

Daryl tenses, fighting the urge to warn Jen that his wife has a literal body count now and she should probably tread lightly, but to his complete surprise, Carol laughs and Jen cracks a small smile in response.

“You look like shit,” Carol tells her, and she almost sounds _ fond _.

“You look the same. Is that why you always dressed like that? Preparing for the end of the world?”

Carol snorts and takes Jen’s hand in hers. Daryl continues to stand there, awkward and confused.

“Where’s Bentley?” Carol asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Jen says, shaking her head the best she can and wincing. “I have no idea.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it. Rob knocked up his secretary at the beginning of the year. Bitch is barely out of diapers herself and clearly dyes her hair out of a _ box _ , but he decided he wanted the thrill of having a twenty-something to fuck whenever he wanted, so he left me for her. He whisked her off to Atlanta, and the day the CDC put out the warning Bentley was with him. He wasn’t even supposed to be, he had school the next day, but the baby had just been born and Rob wanted him to come meet the little bastard, and I knew I should have fought him on it, something told me I shouldn’t have let him go, but Bentley wanted to, and Rob kept blowing up my phone, and so I let him pick him up from daycare and take him to Atlanta and then the emergency signals went up and I tried to get into the city, I tried so hard, but the streets were jammed, and then I heard a rumor that they bombed the city. But they couldn’t have done that, right? Not when there were so many people there. Not when my _ baby _was there. Right?”

“Shh,” Carol shushes Jen gently. Jen is trembling, tears sliding down her cheeks and Daryl’s not sure if she even realizes she’s crying.

“Have you been to Atlanta? Did they really try to bomb it?” 

Daryl sees Carol’s eyes dart to the bite on Jen’s shoulder.

“No,” she tells Jen. “Atlanta’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. Me and Daryl have a house there. We saw them getting everyone into safehouses, and the CDC was getting everything under control. The only reason we left is because my aunt and brother-in-law were back at home. We went to get them and then it was too hard to get back. The roads were congested, like you said. But if Bentley was in Atlanta then I’m sure he got to safety. You don’t need to worry. Your son is gonna survive this.”

Jen exhales a breath that breaks off into a sob as several more thick tears fall.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She studies Carol, glances at Daryl, then turns back and asks, “Where are _ your _ babies?” 

“My son is fine. Somewhere safe. My daughter...my daughter’s lost.”

“Lost?”

“Taken, more like. Kidnapped.” 

At first Jen seems confused, but then all of a sudden her eyes widen, dawning realization washing over her face. Abruptly, despite her wound, she pushes herself up and props herself on her arms, letting out a squeak of pain but ignoring it. Carol startles, surprised, and furrows her brow.

“What is it?” she asks warily.

“Your little girl. Joanna or whatever. She’s the rude one who just stares at people instead of talking like your boyfriend does, right?” 

“Um. Well. Her name is Josie, and for the millionth time, he’s my _ husband _.”

“Fine, but the rude staring thing?” 

“I mean...yeah. Why?” 

“Hey,” Daryl mutters, and Carol shrugs apologetically at him.

“I think I know where she is,” says Jen.

_ “What?” _ Carol and Daryl ask in unison.

“Was she kidnapped by a mean lesbian?”

“Uh,” says Carol.

“Or, I dunno, I’m assuming she’s a lesbian, she had a shaved head and was kind of domineering for a woman. If she’s not a lesbian then good luck to her on finding a man. Hard to find a man who would be attracted to you walking around all broad-shouldered and calling yourself ‘Alpha.’” 

“Jen, that’s her,” Carol says excitedly. “Alpha, that’s her name, or title, or whatever. What do you know about her?”

“Well, for one thing I know she’s totally insane. I was with her group for a few days and she had us doing crazy, _ disgusting _ things. She made us cover ourselves in guts, Carol. Can you imagine that? I only did it because my other group accidentally forgot me at camp”—Daryl can see Carol literally biting her tongue—“But my final straw was yesterday when she came up with the ‘brilliant’ idea that we should start _ wearing _ the skin of those gross monsters.”

“Wearin’ it?” Daryl asks, knitting his brows together. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Because she’s a psychopath?” 

“Maybe for the same reason as the guts,” Carol says to Daryl. “Protection from the walkers.”

“Is that what you call them? Well, guess what she calls them? _ Guardians. _ Like, what the hell? She actually _ likes _ them. She has them surrounding the camp like bodyguards. She’s managed to find a way to control them, although not without a few accidents, but when those happen she just lets them turn and uses them as more guardians. She never kills them, and she punishes anyone who does.”

“That’d explain why I found them tracks the other day of a person and a walker walkin’ in tandem,” Daryl says. Carol nods slowly, absorbing the information.

“What about Josie?” she asks Jen.

“Your daughter is teacher’s pet. Alpha says she sets the example on how to act because she never talks back. Never talks at all, actually. I assumed she was Alpha’s kid—it was hard to tell who she was with the guts, and plus I thought she was a little boy with a bad haircut at first, but that makes sense now, actually, because Alpha said there were people who were ‘against her mission’ who were going to try and take Gamma from her, and that we needed to be on alert.”

“Gamma?” asks Daryl.

“It’s what she calls your daughter. There’s this guy who goes by Beta, too, who’s almost as freaky as that horrible woman. It’s like a damn cult, okay? And every day they get more people to join. The whole thing is ridiculous, and I frankly couldn’t handle it anymore, so I left. Or, well, I tried to, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asks. Jen, who was energized by her rant, seems to remember all at once that she’s sick and wounded. She gestures at the bite in her shoulder with a sad smile, before lowering herself back down onto the ground.

“I can’t prove it, but shortly after I left I got surrounded. I almost got away, but…At least I didn’t get torn apart. I’ve seen that happen to people. The _ screams _.” Jen shudders and shakes her head as if ridding herself of the thought. “Anyway. My guess is Alpha sent them after me. I guess she figured that if I wouldn’t stay as a member I could be a guardian instead.”

“Do you think she’d come back for you? If you turned, I mean?” 

“Maybe. They backtrack a lot, or send people out on their own to get things for the group. I wasn’t with them long, but I learned they have different bases throughout the woods. You can’t _ imagine _ how much walking there was. Like, I did yoga and pilates every day, including holidays, and I still wasn’t prepared.” 

“But if we wanted to find her where should we go?”

“The whole time I was with them they were going east in a kind of zigzag pattern, and like I said, sometimes she or others backtrack to get food or to collect more guardians.” 

“And when you saw Jojo was she okay?” Daryl asks.

“As okay as any of us, I guess. Truth be told I didn’t pay that much attention to her, I’m sorry. You kind of stay out of Alpha’s way, and she was always with Alpha.”

“Do you think she’d hurt Josie for any reason?” Carol asks.

“She loves to dole out punishments. Acts like they’re rewards, like they’re building character or something. I wish I could tell you no, but honestly I don’t know. If your daughter did something—_ anything _—Alpha didn’t like then I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Carol exchanges a glance with Daryl, who chews on the inside of his cheek and tries not to think of what these punishments might entail. If she’d chop a finger just to make a point then what would she do if Josie truly defied her? 

“I hope you find her,” Jen says to Carol. “I mean that.”

“Me, too,” Carol says. 

Jen takes a shaky breath and says, “Now, I don’t like asking help from someone who buys all her clothes from Target, but I need a favor.”

“First off, Target is amazing and if I find one you can bet your ass I’m looting the hell out of it and it’ll make this whole apocalypse worth it. Second off, what favor?” 

Jen huffs a laugh through her nose with an eye roll, and then, with a trembling hand, reaches out and taps the gun still in Carol’s grasp. Carol looks at it and then back at Jen with her eyebrows raised.

“I have no desire to be that bitch’s guardian,” Jen says. “But I can’t do it myself. I need your help.”

“Jen…” Carol trails off, at a loss.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it before,” Jen says with a half-smile. “I definitely have with you.”

The corner of Carol’s lip quirks up but falls quickly. Daryl watches her consider the pistol in her hand and wonders if this is something he should offer to do for her, but odd as it is, he feels like that would be intruding on a capital M Moment. He stays silent as Carol raises the gun and aims it at Jen’s head.

“Somehow this isn’t as satisfying as I always dreamt it would be,” Carol says, making Jen choke out a laugh that turns into a cough.

“What if I told you that I’ve always thought your eyebrows look like sad, sideways apostrophes?” 

“That helps,” Carol says, putting her finger on the trigger.

“If you see my son…?” 

“Don’t worry. He’ll know you loved him. That you searched for him.” 

Jen nods. She looks directly up at all the hues of orange in the darkening sky. She closes her eyes.

The bang makes Daryl jump even though he’s expecting it. Gunshots are always so much louder than he thinks they’re going to be. Carol stares down at Jen’s body for a long while, until Daryl tells her gently they should get going before the noise draws in danger. She puts her gun back in the band of her jeans and gets on the bike behind him.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Daryl asks quietly before turning on the ignition. Carol’s silent for a beat.

“My eyebrows aren’t sad, sideways apostrophes, right?”

Daryl takes her hand and kisses her knuckles.

“Nah, baby, you’re perfect.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You saved her from a way worse fate. Hell, that was pro’ly the nicest thing you’ve ever done for her. Y’all were civil for once, and all it took was for the world to end.”

Carol snorts and says, “She really was a heinous bitch, don’t get me wrong. But that’s not what I saw her as today. Today she and I were the same thing.” 

“What thing is that, sweetheart?” 

Carol twists her mouth and blinks at him with big, sad eyes. 

“Mothers.” 

*

Well after nightfall, in the cabin Aaron and Jesus gave them directions to, neither of them can sleep. Carol lies with her head on Daryl’s chest as he strokes her back, the wind whistling outside, on its own accord this time, no help from the bike needed.

Abruptly, Carol pushes herself up and kisses Daryl on the lips, taking him by surprise.

“What’s that for?” he asks. Her curls are falling out of the bun on the back of her head and he brushes some of them behind her ear. 

In response she leans in to kiss him again and whispers, “I need you,” against his mouth.

“Don’t got nothin’ for it,” he tells her even as he holds her tighter. He ignores the pang in his heart at the reminder that all their plans at growing their family have come to a screeching halt. 

“Hold on,” Carol says, and she pulls away from him and reaches over to start rummaging through her pack. It takes a minute, but she finds what she’s looking for and tosses it triumphantly onto Daryl’s belly. He picks up the box of condoms and snorts.

“Found them at the shop. Thought they might come in handy at some point. I guess you were right, it was worth it to check inside,” she explains. She seems genuine, but Daryl’s smile fades.

“You know I wasn’t gonna let them guys touch you, right?” He forces himself to not avert his gaze from hers even though he wants to. “I know lately it seems like I can’t do right by any of y’all, but they would have had hell to pay if they...Worse than death, Carol, I mean it.”

“Shh,” Carol says, putting a finger to his lips. “They didn’t touch me, and you didn’t have to save me because we worked together. We saved each other. We’re a team, ride or die, remember? Always have been, always will. You haven’t done a damn thing to lose my trust, Daryl, so stop beating yourself up and kiss me instead.” 

Daryl surveys her expression and finds no trace of dishonesty there, and sure, she might have one hell of a poker face, but he can always see through it, so he quirks the corner of his lip and nods. He lets her kiss him senseless then, until he’s able to push his worries just far enough to the side to not be overbearing for a while, allowing the primal needs of his body to take the reins. 

It’s sloppy—they fuck like wild animals—but that’s what makes it right. 

There’s a battle coming, he knows they both can sense it, and so they allow themselves to get a little feral. 

After all, no one’s ever won a war by staying completely tame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. melissa mcbride is absolutey beautiful, but like. her eyebrows kind of look like sad, sideways apostrophes. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> anyway. 
> 
> in memoriam:  
-shitty rapey dudes  
-jen
> 
> i feel like i should be keeping a carol body count. i think she's up to three now. daryl's at one if you count letting that guy get eaten, but honestly that was kind of a cop out.
> 
> k, now, housekeeping/important announcement:
> 
> first off, sorry for not posting for a while. long story short, i had rona. better now. moving on.
> 
> after this chapter there are going to be 4 more chapters and an epilogue, and i realized that if i post one every week this month (w/ last chap and the epilogue posted at once) i can get this story done by the end of december, and tie the scrap metal series up with a nice lil' christmas bow and finally be free from my shackles, so that is my intention. i'm pretty good at meeting deadlines when that deadline is "you get to be done forever" so i am fairly confident that i'll be able to do it. 
> 
> if you read umbra, then just know this does mean i'm putting that on hiatus until january, but it's deffo not abandoned. i'm a flaky bitch, but at least i come back to my stuff. 
> 
> not sure what day of the week i'll have the chaps posted, but just expect one every week until it's finished. we're winding down. are you hype???
> 
> k that's it, bye,
> 
> -diz

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back! i missed you, hoes! (no, really, i did.)
> 
> so this is different, huh? we've come a long way from that blushing virgin in high school that wasn't ever supposed to matter to me at all. look at us now, going full blown apocalypse! general plot things: there will be references to the show, but it's not a parallel or anything, and also i'm gonna go full art hoe and utilize flashbacks, so you'll get some juicy apocalyptic horror mixed in with some classic scrap metal content, some of which will throw back all the way to jumper cables, if we (i) can even remember that far. 
> 
> update schedule is in flux as of right this second. i start a new shift at work on halloween that will free up a ton of my time for writing, so likely i will have a pretty consistent schedule, but until i know how that's gonna work i can't really give you anything definitive. soz. i'll lyk as soon as i know.
> 
> aight, i think that's it for right now. i'm sure there are other things, as there always is, but i'm tired and wanna post this so i'm gonna do that now.
> 
> thanks for sticking with me this far, friends. <3 you like you wouldn't believe
> 
> adios,  
-diz


End file.
